Harry & the Pirate II: Swann's Revenge
by geekmama
Summary: The Continuing Affaires of Captain Jack Sparrow and Lady Henrietta Fanshawe, Dowager Duchess of Wyndham.
1. Jackadandy

Disclaimer: Disney's

**Chapter 1: _Jack-a-Dandy_**

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"By the Saints, Jack! Yer own mother wouldn't know you!" exclaimed Joshamee Gibbs, gaping into the gold-framed mirror that reflected back the image of the Captain of the _Black Pearl_.

The fair image scowled and gave a slight snort of disgust. "That's where you're out, Gibbs: she _would_ know me! Bloody hell. I hope that wretched baggage appreciates this."

Gibbs grinned. He'd never seen Jack like this. None of them had. Clean shaven for the first time in years; painted and powdered and patched like any London exquisite; long black hair stripped of its coins and beads and other trinkets, combed out and curled with irons, and looking now for all the world like a gentleman's fine periwig; and dressed to the nines in an apricot satin coat, immaculate cream smallclothes, and quantities of lace, all lifted from the snot-nosed Frenchie Jack had dealt with two days before when they'd waylaid and boarded the _Coq d'Or_, a little Gallic merchant ship loaded to the scuppers with swag of the finest quality.

Monsieur Beauvais had certainly gotten the worst of Jack's gleeful vengeance that day. Beauvais had been incensed when the frog captain had accepted Jack's offer of quarter, and had made the mistake of not only refusing to hand over to Jack the pretty diamond stick pin nestled so temptingly in his modish lace cravat, but had unsheathed his sword and challenged Jack to a duel, by all the Saints! The _Pearl's_ crew had roared with laughter, but immediately got into the spirit of the thing, placing wagers with raucous abandon, Jack being the odds on favorite of course. Still, there was a small contingent that backed the Frenchie, in spite of his effete appearance, enough to keep the contest interesting. And indeed, he'd shown game at first, striking out with an energy that left no doubt of the gravity of his intentions. But Jack took care of that, pretty much straight away.

A maniacal grin on his lips, Jack played with the fellow a bit, to get his measure as it were, then began his attack, not so fierce as to scare the fellow off, but certainly enough to wipe the smugly superior look from Beauvais' face. It was a hot day, and, though they'd both shed their coats, Beauvais' face began to redden and drip with sweat as he backed across the deck.

"Behind you!" Jack snapped.

The Frenchie paid no heed and ended up tripping on a step. A frantic look came into his eyes as he scrambled up, barely parrying Jack's blow. Jack laughed then, and Beauvais panicked.

"Aw. No guts at all," grumbled O'Brien, and handed over a gold coin to Gibbs.

The fool Frenchie had turned and run, leaping up the steps and across the deck like the devil himself was after him. Which he was, in a way. Jack gave chase, and being used to running about on a ship, which Beauvais wasn't, kept up easily and began merrily thrashing the fellow with the flat of his sword. Beauvais set up a shriek, and the crew of the _Black Pearl_ commenced to cheering the Captain on as the two raced about the decks, Beauvais near to wetting himself with fear and Jack spending some of his pent up energy teaching the French puppy a hard lesson.

Jack had been in a fine, fey mood since the day after the _Dauntless_ had sailed away, taking Lady Henrietta Fanshawe, Dowager Duchess of Wyndham with it, entrusted to the capable hands of Commodore James Norrington. Of course they'd left Turner and her niece, Miss Elizabeth, with him, as well, but it wasn't them Jack had been brooding about that first afternoon as the _Pearl_ came about and began to make her way back to St. Claire Island. Right blue-deviled Jack had been at first. He'd taken the wheel of the _Pearl_ shortly after the departure of the _Dauntless_, and, to his credit, had only turned to look back half a dozen times or so as the floating fortress faded into the distance behind them, on its way to Port Royal and a happy reunion with the Governor. Jack had manned the helm for many hours after that, far into the night, and had not seemed desirous of company during that time, either, preferring instead, Gibbs suspected, to turn over in his mind the events of the last week, and in particular those of the last two days, when he'd been ensconced with the lady in his cabin, getting to know her very well indeed.

Gibbs and the rest of the _Pearl's_ crew couldn't really blame Jack for his air of abstraction. Pretty as rose in May, the Dowager Duchess was, with a neat figure, hair like warm brown silk, a twinkling eye, and truly captivating ways. That she was also maddeningly mischievous and headstrong likely only added to her fascination for Jack. The lad had never had much tolerance for uninteresting females, and a woman less boring than Harry Fanshawe was hard to imagine. She'd led Jack, and perforce his crew, a merry dance, sure enough, but in the end she'd yielded to his charm, as all the ladies did. Except she was different from the others, for he'd yielded to hers as well. And after she was gone it was obvious to the crew: their Captain was fair smitten.

Oh, he'd come around, mostly, the next day. Cotton had relieved him at the wheel during the small hours of the morning, when Jack had shown signs of nodding off on his feet. The old man had roused him with a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and he'd given Cotton a rueful smile before taking himself off to his cabin for the rest of the night. But when he'd come on deck late the next morning, the old light was back in his eye, possibly brighter than ever. He'd grinned a hearty good morning to his crew, then proceeded to set them all scurrying, with orders to ready the _Pearl_ to receive the twelve vile miscreants they'd captured during the affair with that bloody heathen, Lucius Cray. St. Claire Island hove onto the horizon late that afternoon.

Anamaria had been surprised, but happy to see them again so soon, although she was right taken up with the ordering of things on the island, sharing that work with the well-spoken black giant, Judah, and Rachel, housekeeper at the Fanshawe's plantation house for the past twenty years.

When the two of them got a moment alone, Ana eyed the Captain and asked bluntly, "What happened, Jack?"

"Nothin'. Came to fetch those vermin is all," Jack retorted, but with a telltale smirk on his face.

"I know _why_ you're here, ye fool. What happened with Lady Harry?"

"Didn't Gibbs just tell you? She's headed for Port Royal on the _Dauntless_! Plaguing the life out of Norrington instead o' me, by way of a change."

Ana gave him a look of contempt, laced with a dose of disbelief. "Oh, aye? Well, you just go on singin' that tune, while ye look as moony-eyed as a schoolboy."

"I do not!"

"Ye do. An' ye'd better watch yerself. You hurt 'is baby sister an' Swann'll have yer hide nailed to his stable door! Right before he strings you up!"

Jack scowled at her, but took himself off without bothering with further denial.

The _Pearl_ sailed the next day, no one wanting to waste any time getting rid of Cray's minions. Ana and Judah had taken good care of them, and, sure enough, they ended up fetching a nice bit of blunt at the slave market.

"Goin' to give Lady Harry a cut, Jack?" Gibbs asked, eyes laughing.

"Bloody hell, no!" Jack exclaimed, in mock anger. "She already diddled me out of that five hundred I paid for her at the Bride's Auction! _My girl_. Ha!" He walked off muttering, but Gibbs had seen the smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

They sailed to Tortuga next, where the crew blew off some steam in the accepted manner, a few coming back to the ship to sleep, but many just disappearing from sight for the duration. Jack partook of the delights available in the town as well, standing many a round to celebrate recent events, but leaving many a Barque of Frailty pining. He'd always had a reputation as a terrible flirt, but this time that's all he did, which surprised everyone but his crew. Gibbs quizzed him on it some, jesting like, but Jack only gave him an odd look and walked away, shaking his head.

And when the Pearl set sail again, it was seen that the new course would take the ship in the general direction of Jamaica. Not that Jack said as much. What he said was that, now he'd rid the ship of passengers and seen to the crew's needs, it was time to do a bit of actual pirating again. And two days out of Port Royal, he sighted the Coq d'Or through that spyglass of his. A fiendish smile lit his face.

And two hours later, Monsieur Beauvais lay gasping like a landed fish on the deck, Jack's sword at his throat.

"Mercy! Please, Monsieur!" Beauvais whined, staring, horrified, up the length of steel.

"Mercy?" repeated Jack, sounding mystified. "Thought that's what I was givin' you these last few minutes! Could've run you through a dozen times! Eh, Gibbs?" He glanced at his First Mate, seeking confirmation.

"Aye, you could indeed," agreed Gibbs, promptly.

"Y'see?" Jack said to Beauvais, patting the side of his neck with the end of the sword, "Gibbs agrees with me. Always does, of course. That's his job. Who does your hair?"

Beauvais, a bit taken aback by this non sequitur, stammered, "Wh-what?" and looked confused.

"Your hair! That ain't a wig on yer head. An' the togs, too. Yer a right fashionable Frenchie prig. You can't tell me you dress yerself?"

Beauvais, obviously thinking Jack a bit mad at this line of questioning, replied, "M-my valet, Monsieur."

"Well, where the devil is he?" says Jack. "Produce me this valet, _à l'instant!_ If not sooner!"

Beauvais rolled a desperate eye toward the _Coq d'Or's_ captain, who had been watching the proceedings glumly, along with the rest of his crew and passengers. There was a little stir amongst the group of them, and then a thin, balding, middle-aged man dressed in black stepped from their midst, pushing past the Captain and then pausing, dramatically steeling himself.

"I am Monsieur's valet. I am Alphonse."

"Alphonse! Get over here, man!" Jack commanded. "Your master has need of you!"

Alphonse approached, hesitantly, exchanging a speaking glance with Beauvais, then facing the pirate captain as though Jack were his executioner.

Jack gestured to Beauvais and said to Alphonse, "He's a bit worse for wear at the moment, but I can see you put a lot of time an' effort into turnin' him up smart. Think you could do the same for me?"

Alphonse gaped. Then, thinking he'd best humor this potentially lethal madman, gave the question serious consideration. He looked Jack over, professional interest gradually overcoming his fear as he studied the pirate's face and figure. Finally he said, "The hair would be difficult…but yes, I think we could manage it."

Jack grinned. "Excellent!" He looked down at Beauvais. "Ye'll let me borrow yer man for a few weeks, as payment for today's little lesson, aye? And yer clothes too! One must dress, y'know. Alphonse! Show my good men where Monsieur's clothes are stowed."

"My clothing! But, no!" exclaimed Beauvais, moved to action at last.

But Jack set the point of his sword at the Frenchie's throat again in a manner that brooked no defiance. "Now none o' that, my lad! I'm leavin' you the clothes on your back, after all! O' course, they're all sweaty and nasty, anyway. Except the coat!" He brightened, glancing over to wear Beauvais's fine pale blue satin coat lay alongside his own old, worn one. "I'll take that as well. It's a hot clime. Ye'll do fine without it."

And so, Alphonse and two trunks of rich clothing in the latest mode were summarily loaded onto the _Black Pearl_, along with most of the rest of the cargo from the _Coq d'Or_.

Alphonse was a bit upset at first, but found solace in Anatole, the chef Jack had appropriated from another French ship a few months before. Anatole told Alphonse that 'Capitaine' Sparrow and the crew of the _Black Pearl_ were unlike any pirates he'd ever heard of, taking plenty of spoils but making every effort to leave lives intact. He added that he'd never fed a group more appreciative of his efforts, a nice change from the careless attitude of the aristocrats he'd served before this.

"But _le capitaine_!" Alphonse said, in a low tone, looking around as though there were ears growing out of the bulkheads. "Is he not mad?"

Anatole chuckled. He said quietly, "_Oui!_ Mad like a fox! He is on good terms with the Governor of Port Royal, and the Governor's sister, the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham, is his _chere amie_!"

Alphonse stared, his eyebrows rising into what would have been his hairline if he'd had one. "But no!" he breathed, impressed.

He was even more impressed later, when he sat down to dinner with Jack and Gibbs in the Great Cabin. Anatole had done his utmost to make his compatriot feel at home, and served up a veritable feast of Gallic delights.

"By the Saints, this is good!" Gibbs exclaimed.

Jack said to his chef, "Anatole! Your culinary expertise continues to amaze and delight. Should bring aboard a Frenchie comrade for you more often!"

"I did wish to make him welcome, _Capitaine_," Anatole said, demurely.

"I know ye did, an' it's most appreciated. Can't have him unhappy when he's going to be havin' the opportunity to cut me throat with a razor, or stab me with shears, eh?" Jack gave Alphonse an ingratiating smile.

Alphonse choked slightly at the idea of trying to harm the pirate captain, who, however questionable his sanity, was clearly held in very high regard by his crew. No matter what Anatole had told him, Alphonse had no doubt Jack's crew would avenge any harm to their captain in a swift, extremely uncomfortable manner. He smiled back at Jack, a sheen of nervous perspiration appearing on his brow.

After dinner, Jack poured out brandy for the three of them and sat down again, swirling the deep amber liquid in his glass and taking an appreciative sniff, before taking a sip.

"Ah! That's almost good enough to bring a tear to me eye!" he said. "And five cases of it taken from the _Coq d'Or_! I believe we'll have to keep it for our own use, eh Gibbs?"

"It'd fetch a good bit on the market, but I reckon we've enough other swag to sell off to make this day's efforts worthwhile."

"That we do. But best of all is our guest here." He raised his glass in a salute to the valet, and went on. "I'll tell you what I want from you, Alphonse. I've a wedding I'd like to attend in two days, in Port Royal. The Governor's niece, and a good friend of mine, one William Turner, are tyin' the knot. Now, without going into a lot of tedious explanation, what I need you to do is pretty me up so I can attend this affair without appearin' too out of place. Savvy?"

"You wish to…to disguise yourself, no?" suggested Alphonse.

"No. I mean, yes!" said Jack. "The thing of it is, we're friends, but some friends of those friends might not take my presence in so friendly a light. I'm thinkin' if you can fix it so I look like that bloody French puppy you call master, I'll blend in enough so I can be there to wish me friends happy, eh?"

Alphonse studied Jack thoughtfully, then said, "Two days only, _hein_? We will need to begin immediately. The hair alone will be very difficult."

Jack sighed a little at the thought of dismantling the elaborate arrangement he'd spent so long creating, but he'd set his course and would not veer from it. He said, stoically, "Right, then. We can start tonight. After we've sampled a bit more o' this brandy."

He sampled a bit more than a bit more, himself, and imbibed pretty freely for the remainder of the evening, as Alphonse set to work.

It took all of the two days they had left to them as the Pearl made its way toward Jamaica and Port Royal. This was pretty much all due to Jack's hair, and Alphonse came close to giving up on it at a couple of points.

"_Voyons_! This is impossible! Cannot you wear a wig, Monsieur…er…Capitaine Sparrow? I can then cut your hair short and save us both a great deal of pain."

"No," said Jack, stubbornly. "If I can bear it, you can. Just don't pull it all out, savvy? When this wedding's over I want to resume me usual façade, an' short hair ain't part of it."

So Alphonse persevered, and in the end both he and Jack were satisfied with the result.

"It is _miraculeux_!" exclaimed Alphonse, with a happy smile. "You were right, Capitaine! The hair is most beautiful!"

Jack rolled his eyes a bit. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

They did.

Alphonse had now got into the spirit of the thing, and did his utmost to groom Jack to within an inch of his life, bathing, shaving, plucking, cutting, and polishing with great enthusiasm, while Jack set his teeth, drank quantities of the good brandy, and thought of Harry. And on the morning of the wedding, the image that stared back at Jack from the mirror was not that of a pirate.

He grinned, then quickly set his lips together. "Lord, I'd almost forgot the teeth. Have to keep that in mind," he mused, somewhat annoyed at this added inconvenience.

That was when Gibbs had come in, exclaiming gleefully about Jack's mother not knowing him.

"Jack, I'd give a bloody fortune to see Lady Harry's face when you come ridin' up, an' that's the truth. The horse is here, by the by. You'd best get started. Wedding starts at ten sharp."

"Aye. Good thing it's only a few miles. Haven't been on a horse in years. If it was farther it'd probably lame me."

But there was no sign of inexperience as Jack mounted the fine animal, purloined in the night from a plantation a few miles distant, and brought to Fuller's Cove, where the _Black Pearl_ now lay at rest. The crew, who had been stunned when he'd emerged from his cabin, bid Jack a fond farewell, wondering, not for the first time, what kind of life their Captain had come from that he took to the trappings and ways of a gentleman with such ease. And Alphonse, looking on with a satisfied smile, prepared to enjoy the beautiful day, secure in the knowledge of a job well done.


	2. Happy Shalt Thou Be

**Chapter 2: _Happy Shalt Thou Be_**

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Lady Henrietta Fanshawe stood watching her niece, Miss Elizabeth Swann, who in a very short time would become Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. The maid was skillfully completing the arrangement of the bride's hair. Tiny flowers had been carefully pinned into the honey colored curls, which had been swept up into a simple, yet regal coiffure.

"It's lovely, Estrella," said Harry. "My dresser in London could not have done better."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Estrella with a smile. "And I wish you joy, Miss Elizabeth."

"Thank you, Estrella. For everything." Elizabeth touched the maid's hand in a fond caress. Estrella had been her lady's maid since shortly after Elizabeth had come to Port Royal as a girl of twelve. Estrella had been just eighteen, very young to be raised to such an exalted position in the household, and Elizabeth, being old for her twelve years, had become most attached to her maid, in spite of the difference in their stations.

"You're most welcome, Miss. I'll leave you now: you'll like to be private with your aunt for a bit, I daresay." Estrellla squeezed her charge's hand lightly and gave her a meaningful smile, then turned and left the room.

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow and met her aunt's eyes in the mirror, quizzically. "Are you going to tell me to close my eyes and think of England tonight?"

Harry burst out laughing. "Where did you hear such a thing, you rogue?"

Elizabeth grinned. "A friend of mine, Mary Cooper, was married last year and said that's what her mother told her the morning of her wedding, on my honor!"

"Oh, my lord! No, it wouldn't be my recommendation," Harry chuckled. "Will is such a darling: I have no doubt you will deal delightfully together."

"As delightfully as you and Jack?" Elizabeth said primly, her eyes full of teasing laughter.

Harry stared at her, slightly startled. They had never spoken of the two days Harry had spent with Jack in his cabin aboard the _Black Pearl_. Harry felt herself coloring as bits of memory from that idyll intruded upon her calm. She cleared her throat.

"Well…ah…it won't be quite like that. But the night will hold a charm all its own, I promise you."

Elizabeth turned around and looked at her aunt, the teasing look fading to real sympathy. "So unwise of you Aunt! But you miss him dreadfully, don't you?" she asked. "I mean, since our return I've noticed…well, you sometimes look as though you are not quite with us."

Her aunt sighed, and a little crease appeared between her brows. "Have you? I'm sorry for it: there are few guests more tiresome than one sunk in melancholy."

"I don't think my father has noticed," Elizabeth said. "But Will and I…perhaps we expected something of the sort. Jack _is_ rather hard to forget."

"Mmmm. He is isn't he?" said Harry slowly, picturing him in her mind's eye, a smile touching her lips again.

"Was it delightful, Aunt?" Elizabeth said softly, smiling too.

Harry was dragged back to the present, and reddened further. "Yes. Well. He…has a great deal of…of experience, you know."

"And he loves you," Elizabeth added.

Harry nodded. "Yes, he does, a bit. I have a corner of his heart at least. But he wasn't meant to be tied to a woman's apron strings. You are very right. The whole _affaire_ was most unwise. And yet, I cannot regret it. You, on the other hand, are fortunate enough to have all of Will's heart, and I beg you will always remember the value of that: it is a rare and beautiful thing."

"I will," Elizabeth assured her, a prescient echo of the words she would soon declare to the world. Her thoughts wandered away, in pursuit of her beloved.

o-o-o

The ladies emerged from Elizabeth's room betimes. Weatherby Swann, Governor of Port Royal, proud father of the bride, and exasperated brother of the dowager duchess, had been pacing about the foyer for the last quarter hour, bemoaning dallying females to his butler, Beck. However, when he caught sight of the two of them coming down the stairs, his impatience was mollified by the reflection that he had never seen two more beautiful or more elegantly dressed females in his life.

Harry wore a magnificent toilette of coral silk: _Kiss of Venus_, she'd said the color was named. Straight from Paris no doubt—probably cost a small fortune. The pirate Montlief had unaccountably left Harry's trunks of fine clothing on the _Nightingale_, and the Governor almost regretted this circumstance: it would have done his spoiled sister a great deal of good to have to scrape together a wardrobe from the comparatively limited resources that Port Royal and Kingston had to offer. But, alas, it was not to be. Harry had thoroughly equipped herself with the latest fashions before sailing from England, and that fool Montlief had not even bothered to check the trunks for hidden compartments, and so had missed getting hold of her jewelry as well. It was all of a piece. However, Harry did do him credit. The dress she had chosen for the wedding was a stunning creation—although the bodice was cut rather too low for modesty; undoubtedly in the mode, however—and was further enhanced by the pearl and diamond jewelry she had gleefully unearthed on discovering that her trunks had arrived intact. She was a beauty. There was no denying it. And there was a decidedly unwidowlike glow about her too, which rather worried the Governor.

And then there was his Elizabeth. He had no worries at all when it came to his daughter. She was radiant, everything a bride should be! A vision in lace and sky blue satin, shot with tiny pearls, the cut of the dress enhancing her tall, slender figure to perfection. She recalled to him the way his wife had looked at their own wedding, his darling, who had died untimely. She had come from yeoman stock: he had married beneath his station, and had never regretted it for a moment, which was another reason he had given his consent to Elizabeth's seemingly unequal match.

"Elizabeth, my dear! You are perfection! I hope Turner appreciates the rare jewel I'm about to bestow upon him."

"Oh, there's no doubt of that," said Harry. "He still can't quite believe it even now, I think. He is a darling boy."

"And I am appreciative in turn, Father," said Elizabeth, with quiet dignity. "Will is the finest man of my acquaintance, bar none!"

"Yes, quite," said Swann, in a soothing tone, "If he were not a fine man I would hardly have given my consent to your marriage, would I?"

"Is the carriage here?" Harry asked.

"Aye. It's been ready for the past quarter hour," said her brother pointedly.

"Has it?"

"We'll be late!"

"Do you think they will start without us?" Harry asked blandly, her eyes twinkling.

Her brother raised his eyes toward Heaven, as though praying for patience.

Harry said, sympathetically, "Don't worry, dearest, we won't be late."

They weren't. The bells were striking the hour when their carriage drew up at the church steps.

The wedding itself was to be a small one, although much of the population of the town had been invited to attend the reception, to be held afterwards in the gardens of the Governor's estate. Among the select assembly waiting on the steps of the church was the bridegroom, William Turner, looking tense and romantically handsome in a new suit of deep blue, real lace at his throat and wrists: by far the most elegant clothing he'd ever worn. His former master, Mr. Brown, stood beside him, thankfully sober, and resplendent in his best russet coat and black breeches, both ten years out of date and a bit tight on his now ampler figure. And Commodore James Norrington was there as well.

Over the intervening months since Elizabeth's rejection of his suit, Norrington had conducted himself with admirable nobility, even going so far as to strike up a cool but nonetheless sincere friendship with Will Turner, whom he had discovered to be quite a remarkable young man. Norrington's regard for Elizabeth endured, and, if he could not have her to wife, he was determined to retain her and Will as his friends, and, as such, it would have been folly to exclude himself from what would be the most important event of their lives. He did not expect the day to be entirely comfortable for him, but he was hopeful that the sight of their happiness would assuage any undue pain he might expect to feel. That, and possibly the liberal consumption of champagne punch at the reception.

Norrington was also intrigued by Elizabeth's aunt. In spite of her threat to expose his youthful scrape of a dozen years before, and of her outrageous behavior in bestowing a rather too warm parting kiss on the pirate, Sparrow, he had enjoyed becoming reacquainted with Lady Henrietta on the voyage back to Port Royal. She had grown from a lively debutante into a woman of great vitality and grace. Her beauty was of a different nature than Elizabeth's: less goddess-like, perhaps. Indeed, he would himself be tempted to slip an arm about her trim waist should the opportunity arise, whereas he'd never really thought of Elizabeth in quite those terms. Even soaked to the skin and dressed in nothing but a shift, Elizabeth had what seemed to him a sterner, less approachable beauty. But Lady Harry, as she had insisted he call her, was made for laughter and kisses, and it was easy to forgive her if her high spirits occasionally led her into indiscretion.

The Governor had emerged from the carriage first, and the entire party on the steps smiled as Swann handed down first his lovely sister, then, to a chorus of low-voiced murmurs of approval, the bride.

Elizabeth and Will were surrounded by close friends and family, yet it was as if they were alone on the steps, communicating their love with faces alight with joy, and eyes that spoke more eloquently than voices. Will came down the steps to take her hand as the carriage drove away.

"Will you come in with me?" Will asked her, wonder in his voice.

"With all my heart," replied his bride.

"Come, my dears," said Harry, gently, "Parson Daniels is waiting!"

The two smiled at each other.

They had just started up the steps to the church, followed by the rest of the party, when the clippity-clip sound of a rider on horseback came to their ears.

The whole wedding party turned and gaped in wonder and curiosity at the vision that was rapidly approaching. And Harry, her heart giving a sudden leap as enlightenment blinded her to caution, shoved her way past her brother and Norrington to stand open-mouthed with joy at the foot of the steps.

"J-," she began, saw his eyes widen and a brow lift at the indiscretion hovering on her tongue, clapped a hand over her mouth, and went into an abrupt fit of coughing.

"Harry! My word! What is wrong with you? And who is this fellow?" Governor Swann demanded, slapping his sister lightly on her back.

Jack, for it was indeed he, had dismounted. He tossed the reins of the horse and a gold coin to an urchin hovering nearby, saying, "Have this beast stabled if you please, lad!" He turned to the Governor and Harry, and minced toward them, sweeping off his very beautiful hat. He bowed with exaggerated grace. "Governor Swann! You must forgive me for intruding upon this auspicious occasion, but it had come to my ears that the niece of my very dear Lady Fanshawe was to be wed this morning, and I took the chance of imposing upon your celebrated hospitality to come and offer my old friend support during the happy event. I am Sir John Wainfleet."

The Governor looked 'Sir John' up and down in considerable surprise. This painted puppy a good friend of Harry's? If it was true, her taste in men had changed remarkably over the years: the fellow looked a damned man-milliner! Apricot satin indeed!

But before her brother could say anything, Harry recovered. Straightening, she went to Jack, holding out her hands. "My dear Sir John! What a surprise! I had no idea you had planned to come to Jamaica! I only arrived two weeks ago myself."

"'Twas somewhat less for me," Sir John said, taking her hands and kissing the air directly above each one, giving them a slight squeeze as he did so. Jack straightened and smiled benignly at Harry, the Governor, and the rest of the bridal party. He saw that Will and Elizabeth knew him—they were struck dumb, mouths slightly open, but fortunately no one was looking at them. Norrington was giving him an oddly penetrating look too, but Jack could not believe the Commodore would be quite so quick on the uptake—perhaps it was the foppish disguise that made him stare so. It was certainly fooling the Governor: Jack chuckled inwardly at the rather disdainful look Swann was giving him.

"My dear," Harry said to her brother, "you will not mind if Sir John joins us for the ceremony. You do not know him, but indeed he is one of my greatest friends!"

"Really?" said Swann. He held out his hand.

Jack hesitated for a split second, then limply touched the Governor's fingers with two of his own. Alphonse had carefully manicured Jack's hands, but the calluses built up with so many years of sailing could not be hidden, and were as dead a giveaway as the gold teeth would have been.

Swann's lip curled. "Well, you must join us, then. Wainfleet, eh? The Lincolnshire family? I knew old Mortimer, you know."

"He was my Great Uncle," Sir John supplied.

"That right? Well, you have the look of him, a bit. We'd better go in, Harry. Can't keep the Parson waiting any longer."

"Very true," Harry agreed. "Just let me quickly introduce you to everyone, Sir John."

The introductions went well. Elizabeth and Will had recovered their composure, and greeted Sir John with a warm light in their eyes. Jack lifted Elizabeth's fingers to his lips in a brief salute, and said to her, "My dear, I've never seen a lovelier bride. I am very honored to be with you on this special day."

"And I am so happy you came to join us, Sir John!" she said, her voice quivering only slightly.

Will gripped Jack's hand firmly. "It's a great pleasure, sir," he said, sincerely, his eyes laughing.

Norrington looked down his nose at Sir John, a slight smile on his lips as the fop bowed politely. "How do you do?" the Commodore said, sounding bored.

The other members of the group, mostly high-ranking members of Port Royal society, seemed impressed with Sir John's air of sophistication. This, coupled with the dowager duchess's obvious fondness for the man, persuaded them that he must certainly be of the _haute ton_ in London, and most worthy of their acceptance.

"Sir John! Please accompany me!" said Harry, taking his arm.

"With the greatest pleasure in life, my dear," said Sir John.

The whole party processed into the church. Will and Elizabeth joyously walked up the aisle to stand before the Parson, whose slight annoyance at the delay vanished at the sight of the beautiful pair. Harry sat in the front row, flanked by Jack and her brother, and the rest of the guests filled the remaining first two rows.

Harry reflected that this was indeed one of the happiest moments she'd ever experienced. She placed her hand close to Jack's, stealthily, and he linked his little finger with hers. She looked at him, and he smiled down at her. She smiled back, gave a small sigh of bliss, turned to face the altar again, and let the beautiful words of the ceremony weave their magic as they united two lives in one.

**_Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…_**

…I, William, take thee, Elizabeth, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth…

…I, Elizabeth, take thee, William, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth…

…With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen…

…Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life: Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name.

Happy shalt thou be!


	3. Making Merry

**Chapter 3: _Making Merry_**

****

The wedding reception was heavily attended, nearly everyone invited having deigned to accept. With so very many of the King's Finest in the know it could not be hushed up, but the population of Port Royal was willing to overlook the fact that Elizabeth Swann had been kidnapped and held for days by pirates of a most evil nature, marooned for a night and a day on an island with only the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow for company, and had subsequently thrown her excellent match with Commodore James Norrington to the Caribbean breeze in order to marry Master William Turner, who, however brilliant he was at making and using a sword, was still a common craftsman. Lady Fanshawe observed to 'Sir John Wainfleet' that this would certainly not have been the case in London.

"One more reason to stay away from England," Sir John said, with a reminiscent grimace.

Harry looked at him quizzically. "You've had some slight scandal attached to your name back home, I gather?"

"'Slight scandal'. That's one way of putting it," Jack agreed, obviously considering this a gross understatement. He looked down at her, his eyes bright with amusement. "And then there's the weather. Bloody awful!"

Harry laughed. "I couldn't agree more!"

The weather on this happiest of days in Port Royal was perfect, sunny with a slight cooling breeze off the sea. This was in keeping with the nature of the entire proceeding: the gardens had been scythed, trimmed, and raked to perfection; the refreshments were astonishingly varied and of the finest quality; and the guests were dressed in their finest attire and wandered over the lawns and paths like so many exotic flowers, thoroughly enjoying the fruits of the Governor's (and his family's and servants') labor. None were more beautiful than the bride and groom, of course, the couple's joy setting them on a level above the ken of ordinary folk, although the Dowager Duchess and her newly arrived swain were not far behind in this regard, even if they were less obvious about it.

Over the course of the afternoon, Sir John proved a great hit with the other guests. Harry smiled as she observed him conversing with various groups, but eventually could not help noticing that the more champagne punch he imbibed the more the idiosyncrasies of Captain Sparrow peeped through, in look and gesture, if not in words: he seemed to have no trouble maintaining the cultured manner of speaking he'd adopted for the occasion. She finally saw Norrington studying her pirate rather too intently and judged it time to put some distance between the two men.

She walked across the lawn and stood a little aside as Jack finished telling a group of amused and admiring matrons a ribald tale of another wedding he said he'd attended in London. "…and you will not credit it, but on my honor, 'tis true: the couple never again retired to bed without the company of at least a half dozen of my lady's spaniels!" Jack concluded, and smiled complacently at the ladies' laughter.

Harry slipped a hand through his arm. "Sir John! I vow, you are neglecting me! Ladies, you must forgive me for dragging him away: he has only just arrived in Port Royal, and there are some things we need to discuss in private."

"Private, is it?" Jack said, as they left the matrons twittering.

Harry met his sidelong glance and smiled a little, lifting one brow.

They strolled back toward the house, nodding to various guests, and walked up the shallow steps of the veranda.

As they entered the house, Harry observed with satisfaction that it was nearly deserted, everyone from the Governor down to the lowliest servant being engaged in making the reception in the gardens a success. She led Jack down the cool marble-floored hallway toward the library, weaving a fanciful history for him. "You cannot have forgotten the many delightful interludes we spent from time to time in England, Sir John," she said in a low, simpering tone. "They were the only thing that made my widowhood tolerable! Do you not remember that night in the summerhouse at Easley? The stars! The scent of roses! It is something I'll never forget! I grow weak just thinking of it!"

She drew him into the library after her and closed the door. Instantly his hands were at her waist.

"The summerhouse, eh? And just what were we doing there?" he murmured as he pulled her against him.

"Everything!" she whispered and kissed him, her heart pounding with the joy of touching him again. She ran her hands up around his neck, and then tangled in his hair. She pushed away a little and said to him, "I can't believe you did this for us! It must have taken days to do your hair like this!"

He laughed. "Seemed like it, anyway. I think Alphonse, me new valet, pulled half of it out before it was ready to curl."

"Where did you get a valet?"

"Swiped him off a French ship a few days ago."

She laughed, too, and put her hands on either side of his face, studying it closely. "God's life, you look so young! It's a wonder any of us knew you!"

He rolled his eyes a bit. "Why do you think I dress the way I do? I grew tired of bein' taken for a lad a good many years ago."

"I can imagine: you don't look like an infamous scallywag at all!" she said fondly.

"Ah, but this is just a disguise, love," he said, drawing her into an intimate embrace. He pulled her hips against his, and bent to whisper in her ear: "I'm still Captain Jack Sparrow underneath."

She opened her mouth slightly in a gasp of delight, and he took full advantage of this as he kissed her again.

She had to have him. After a long, aching minute she disengaged herself and grabbed his hand. "Behind the couch!" she said, imperatively, pulling him toward the divan that sat hiding a space a few feet wide in front of a tall window, the sun filtering softly through its fine, lawn curtains.

"I'm entirely at your service, Lady Fanshawe," he drawled, following quite willingly, but thankful to observe that the floor was thickly carpeted.

o-o-o

"Will," said the Governor, "I have something to show you. Let us repair to the library for a moment."

"Should we leave the guests, sir?" asked Will, looking around, trying to locate Harry and Jack. Elizabeth was clearly visible, surrounded by a small pack of envious young ladies.

The sight of his wife—_his wife!_—enjoying the company of her friends gladdened his heart. These 'bosom beaux' had given Elizabeth a somewhat cool reception after her return from the adventure on the Isla de Muerta. It was understandable, Will supposed, but he knew his sweetheart had felt badly about the damage her credit had suffered. Once the date for the wedding had been set, however, her friends seemed to have warmed again, and over the course of their six-month engagement the young ladies, and indeed the majority of Port Royal's residents, had grown much more friendly and respectful of Will, too. It boded well for the future, he thought. No, he wasn't worried about Elizabeth.

Harry and Jack were another matter, however, and the fact that they were nowhere to be seen disturbed him somewhat. He had no expectation of them behaving themselves, in spite of the presence of the cream of Port Royal society, which included the sharp-eyed Commodore. Will was already afraid Norrington suspected that Sir John Wainfleet was not entirely what he seemed. All it needed was for the pair to be caught in some awkward situation!

"The guests can take care of themselves for a bit," said the Governor. "Plenty of food and drink to be had, Lord knows. Harry's about somewhere, too: likes playing the great lady. She's a good hostess."

Will privately agreed, after observing her activities during the afternoon. If she was out here among the guests, of course. But he said to his Father-in-law, "Very well, sir: I am with you."

They walked into the house, enjoying the cool of the interior as they moved toward the library.

"Party's gone off quite well, actually, I believe," the Governor commented. "All that planning and work's come to glad fruition. And, I must admit, Harry's been an asset these last two weeks. At least she's learned how to manage a house and a pack of servants since her marriage. I'd think of asking her to stay here with me permanently if she wasn't such a madcap at times. Sets me quite on edge: never know what she'll be up to next."

"She is a very lively lady," agreed Will, trying not to laugh.

"'Lively'. You've a gift for understatement, lad. Sometimes I think she's as daft as she can stare!"

Like Jack, Will thought. It was little wonder the two had been attracted to one another.

They reached the library doors, and Swann opened one, motioned Will inside, followed him in and shut the door again.

"I hope you won't take it the wrong way, my boy," said the Governor, "for I've no doubt at all you'll be a successful enough swordsmith to give my daughter a good life, if not quite as luxurious as that she's enjoyed in the past." The Governor had finally gleaned the truth about the work that was done at Brown's smithy. Master swordmakers were not only in high demand in Europe, they were nearly on an equal footing with many of the aristocrats to whom they offered their works when it came to wealth and respect. And if Will was this fine an artisan now, young as he was, who knows how far he might go?

"I shall certainly endeavor to do so, sir," said Will.

The boy was devilish well mannered too, Swann thought. "I know you will. But, as your Father-in-law—Ha! That sounds odd, don't it? And 'Grandfather' will sound even odder, no doubt, eh?" The Governor gave Will a knowing smirk, and playfully slapped the young man's arm. "As your Father-in-law, I want the best for you as well as for my daughter. You need to be free to develop that skill of yours, without undue worry over the day-to-day exigencies of living. So, as I said, I hope you won't take it amiss that I'm giving you this."

He had walked over to his desk, and now picked up a document and handed it to Will.

Will looked it over, and his eyes slowly widened. He looked at the Governor. "Sir! You are deeding us the guesthouse?"

"And the land it sits on as well," affirmed Swann, smiling. "It's a gift that'll make things considerably easier for the pair of you. Elizabeth always liked the little place."

And it would keep her almost within shouting distance of the Governor's own residence, Will thought, not entirely sure this would be a desirable circumstance. Still, Will saw no possible way of refusing such a gift, not without giving grave offense. And at least they would not be living in his Father-in-law's house itself—an arrangement that was hardly unusual for newlyweds.

Will therefore said, "Your generosity quite overwhelms me, sir! How can I—can we—ever thank you enough? Does Elizabeth know?"

"Not yet. Wanted to put it to you, first. I know you both value independence—I remember well how I felt about that at your age! But, indeed, if you'd see your way to accepting this gift you'd make me a very happy man. Elizabeth's all I have left of my wife—the image of her, give you my word! And I love the girl more than I can say. I suppose I've been too indulgent with her, but she's grown into a wonderful young woman for all that. Don't think I could bear to have her quite gone from here—and I've grown very fond of your company, as well, my boy."

"When you put it as kindly as that how can I refuse, sir?"

"Excellent! You will give me your support when we tell Elizabeth, then?"

"Yes, of course," said Will, "though I can't imagine she'll have much objection to the scheme."

The Governor frowned slightly. "Yes, well, one never knows what maggots women will take into their heads. However, if you are in favor of it she'll likely follow along. Now it only remains to dispose of my hoydenish sister! It would be a great thing if a suitable man would come along and take charge of her!"

Will's lip quivered into a smile, and he suggested a bit slyly, "Perhaps he's already appeared, in the person of Sir John Wainfleet. She seems to be very friendly with him."

But Swann shook his head. "Wainfleet! Will, the man's a fribble! No, no! My sister needs a man with a strong whip hand, not a puppy taken up with the size of his hat and the set of his coat. I say, what was that?"

The two men looked across the room, toward divan in front of the window, from the direction of which a definite squeak had issued.

With sudden misgiving, Will said quickly, before the Governor could react further, "I'll go see!"

He crossed the room, and, steeling himself slightly, peered over the back of the divan. His worst fears were confirmed. Jack and the Dowager Duchess. A scattering of cushions from the divan about them. Modesty was more or less preserved due to the voluminous nature of the lady's skirts, but it was quite obvious what they had been doing, and Will felt himself coloring with embarrassment and annoyance. The two were looking up at him, Jack smirking, his one hand pressed lightly over Harry's mouth. She looked furious—the squeak had undoubtedly issued from her lips at Swann's 'whip hand' remark. Jack used his other hand to put a long finger to his lips, then flicked the hand at Will, mouthing _Go away!_ Will gave them a scolding glare, then wiped the expression from his face as he turned back to his father-in-law.

"Only a mouse, I think, sir," he said blandly, hoping Swann didn't notice his heightened color as he walked toward the man.

"A mouse! Good lord. We'll have the housemaids setting up a screech if that's not taken care of. I'll have Beck set some traps tonight."

"Yes, I think that would be wise. Perhaps we should rejoin the guests, now, don't you think?"

Swann chuckled. "Can't bear to be parted from her yourself, can you? Very well. Into the breach once more!"

o-o-o

Upon finally emerging from the house, Harry was immediately swept up in her duties as hostess and gave Jack a rueful parting glance as she moved off. Jack strolled over to where Will was standing alone, to the side of the veranda, watching Elizabeth.

"Enjoyin' the view?" Jack asked as he came up beside him.

"Immensely," Will smiled. He glanced over at Jack, and tried to look severe. "You two are outrageous, you know."

"I know," Jack said, trying not to grin. "Forgive me, mate! I was led astray!"

"You mean you didn't do the leading?"

"Not this time. I didn't have the slightest objection to bein' led, of course," Jack admitted, watching Harry cross the lawn, his eyes bright under their drooping lids. After a few moments he looked at Will. "Thanks for keepin' mum—bit of an awkward moment, that."

Will couldn't help smiling. "That's certainly one way of putting it!" The smile faded a little, and he suddenly looked slightly uncomfortable. He said, trying to keep his voice light, "Have any advice for me, then?"

Jack raised one brow at Will's expression. "About tonight, d'you mean?" He looked out at Elizabeth, standing like a goddess among lesser mortals. Even Harry, as dear as she was to him, couldn't rival Elizabeth's beauty, not on this day. Jack glanced back at Will. "You didn't take advantage of the lack of a duenna those last two days on the _Pearl_, eh?"

"No!" Will exclaimed, then amended this. "Well…not entirely."

Jack chuckled. "So tonight's the night, then, after all."

"I'm so glad we're a source of amusement to you," Will said, a little sarcastically.

"Well, of course you are!" Jack laughed. "It's bloody traditional, mate. Don't you know anything about weddings?"

Will laughed too, then. "Not much. This whole thing's been one mystery after another for me. Once the engagement was announced I felt like I was being swept along on an irresistible tide!"

Jack nodded. "I understand that's the way of it. Well, the destination's what matters, eh? Things'll settle down nicely after the wedding trip. You can get back to makin' fine swords by day, and makin' Mrs. Turner happy by night."

"It's my intention, certainly," Will said, rather dreamily.

Jack lifted a brow. "Aye. Well. I've no doubt you'll succeed. As for tonight, just remember that particular race is not won by the swiftest, eh? And don't let her try to tell you different."

Will's mind boggled a bit at the vision that came to mind. "Do you think she will?"

"I wouldn't bet against it. She's near as headstrong as her Auntie. You'll likely have your hands full in future. But you won't want to make a mull of it the first time. I've run across far too many females that've had that particular experience. Takes some real address to get 'round them, I can tell you."

"But you do 'get 'round them', I suppose," Will said, with a glint of amusement.

Jack gave a crooked grin. "More often than not. I _am_ Captain Jack Sparrow!"

"That you are. You'd better watch the teeth, by the way." Will smirked as Jack pressed his lips together. "Any other advice?"

Jack looked out at Elizabeth again. She'd been joined by Harry, and his heart warmed at the sight of the two of them. "Aye," he replied to Will. "For the Lord's sake, have some fun! Life's too serious a business, for the most part, which is why God gave us days and nights like these, to ease the burden, eh?"

Will looked at him. "Waxing philosophical?" he said, but sounded appreciative of the sentiment, nonetheless.

"I do that, occasionally," Jack said. He turned to Will, studying his face for a moment. "Your Da' would be proud of you, y'know."

"You think so?" Will asked. He felt a touch of the familiar ache he always felt at the thought of the father he'd not seen since childhood. But Jack clapped him on the shoulder, with such a speaking look in his eyes that Will's pain was assuaged.

"I know it," Jack said, simply. He let Will go, looking around again. "It's gettin' late. I suppose I'd better think of makin' me exit. Don't know when I'll see you again, but I've no doubt Mrs. Turner'll keep you busy." He gave Will a quick grin of flashing gold and white, then turned and took himself off to find Harry.

o-o-o

"My dear Sir John! Must you leave us so soon? " asked Harry with plaintive sincerity.

A final toast had been drunk to the happy couple, a stable boy had brought the stolen horse up to the house, and Sir John was now preparing to mount the beast for the ride back to Fuller's Cove. Harry, Will and Elizabeth, and, unfortunately, Norrington had accompanied him to the front of the house to see him off.

"Alas, I'm afraid I must!" Jack took her hands in his and squeezed them firmly, letting his eyes say what his lips could not in the presence of the Commodore. "We shall meet again soon, no doubt. Until then, adieu, fair lady!" Releasing her, he turned to Elizabeth and Will. "My dear young friends—for I hope I may call you such, though we've only just met this day—it has been my great privilege to be present on this most auspicious occasion in your lives. I thank you for allowing me to be a part of it, and wish you both joy, with all my heart."

Elizabeth, listening fascinated to this speech, said to Jack, "Sir John! It was our privilege to have you with us! Indeed, it would not have been the same without you!"

"That's putting it mildly," said Will, a bland smile on his face.

Jack's lips quivered, but he managed not to burst out laughing. It was a close run thing, however. He cleared his throat and turned to Norrington, bowing slightly. "Commodore, it's been a pleasure to meet you. I shall rest content, knowing Jamaica is guarded by such a vigilant representative of the King's Finest."

"You are too good, Wainfleet," Norrington said, his eyes glinting with what Jack would have said was amusement had it been any other man.

"Not at all," said Jack. He turned and mounted the horse with credible grace. "Farewell, my friends!" he said, airily, "It's been a merry meeting!"

Harry threw him a kiss, and Elizabeth and Will both called out, "Farewell!"

Norrington, however, said, "Goodbye, Sir John. Oh! And by the way."

Sir John's dark brows rose in enquiry.

"Give my regards to Mr. Gibbs, will you?" the Commodore drawled, and gave a slight smile of satisfaction at the expression on Jack's face before he turned and, favoring the rest of the company with a pointed look, walked back into the house.


	4. Island Days

**Chapter 4: _Island Days_**

****

"So you knew it was Captain Sparrow all along!"

"Of course," smiled the Commodore.

The Dowager Duchess was standing at the railing of the _Dauntless_ with Norrington, who was escorting her back to St. Claire Island, to the lady's considerable annoyance. Since she had embarked on a reckless and thoroughly enchanting _affaire_ with the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow, Harry felt that the less the Navy knew of her other affairs the better it would be for all concerned. This prudent intention had died aborning, due to the stratagems of her interfering busybody of a brother. Weatherby, backed with the authority of his Governorship as well as that of a sibling many years her senior, had insisted that the Commodore take Harry back to her new home to ensure that all was well on the island. The Commodore had readily agreed to the Governor's request, for it was in alignment with his own desire to investigate the death of the former overseer of the plantation, one Lucius Cray, a known felon, as well as the subsequent sale of a dozen of the man's henchmen at the Port-au-Prince slave market. Thus it was that Lady Henrietta found herself once again enjoying the hospitality of the Navy, all the necessities and luxuries she'd purchased for the plantation having been stored below in the hold of the great warship.

They had not previously spoken of Captain Sparrow's presence at the wedding , either following 'Sir John's' departure from the event, or at any time since, as there had been little opportunity for private conversation. But now, alone with the Commodore for a brief time, Harry had broached the subject, feeling that avoiding it would give rise to undesirable suspicion and speculation.

"I quite thought you would have had him arrested on recognizing him—or at least _said_ something," Harry commented, mendaciously.

Norrington looked sidelong at her, lifting a brow. "No, you didn't," he said, bluntly. "As though I would disrupt Elizabeth's wedding in such a manner when there was no need! I assumed Sparrow went to the trouble of donning such an elaborate disguise in order to refrain from doing so himself. Believe me, if he had not kept the line I would have made quick and quiet work of him."

Harry chuckled. "Well, I appreciate your discretion. We became great friends on the voyage we made to St. Claire after the Bride's Auction. Moreover, I think Elizabeth and Will would have been disappointed had he not come to their wedding. He has become…dear to us! Even in so short a time!"

Norrington frowned. "Yes. He has an inexplicable charm that draws one in, even when one is aware that he is a notorious scoundrel. I beg you will keep your distance from him, Lady Fanshawe. He would have no hesitation in using the most unscrupulous means to gain his ends, and your great wealth makes you an easy target for a man of his stamp."

"I thank you for the warning, Commodore. But in this case it is not needed, I think. I have very good reasons to count him a true friend."

"He may well be, but mark my words: his every action has an ulterior motive."

_And who among us can claim to have none?_ Harry thought. But she did not say it.

o-o-o

The _Dauntless_ lay anchored in the South Bay at St. Claire for three nights, two nights longer than Harry and, especially, AnaMaria would have preferred.

When the great ship had appeared on the horizon Ana had uttered a vehement oath and stomped off to gather her few things together. Judah was saddened, but understood her reasoning: not only was she a known pirate, she was an escaped slave as well, and it would be foolish beyond permission to risk capture for either offense. Fortunately she had a place to go: on the north side of the island there was a little settlement of folk, of English descent for the most part, former employees of the late Montgomery Fanshawe, who'd been forced out when Lucius Cray had appeared to take charge as overseer of the plantation. Judah had sent word to them shortly after Cray's demise, but it was not until the _Black Pearl_ had departed with the captured ruffians that the families came to investigate the changes that had taken place at the plantation. However, receiving a warm welcome from Judah, Rachel, and the rest of the plantation's residents, the group had realized that great good had come from the advent of the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham, and better days might be in store for all. They had been impressed with AnaMaria's quick mind and her ability to organize the residents into work parties for the clean up and refurbishment of the plantation, working alongside Judah and Rachel in this endeavor, and had not held her piratical leanings against her in the least. After all: there, but for the grace of God…!

The most prominent member of the little group was a wiry, gray-haired man of middle age, Giles Lightfoot. He had a spouse, Miriam, as plump as he was lean and the very picture of wifely and motherly devotion; and there were three surviving offspring, Davis, Mordecai, and Lillian, the boys being strapping lads of nineteen and twenty, and the young lady a pretty maid of thirteen. Judah informed AnaMaria that Lightfoot was the man who had improved the quality of St. Claire's rum to such an extent that it was becoming a byword all over the Caribbean. Giles, taking a tot of the current iteration of the heavenly elixir along with Judah and the pirate wench, remarked that at least Cray had not managed to much harm the vital processes that had been put into place before the villain had come to the island: the rum was still devilish good! AnaMaria had agreed, and had told him a bit of what Lady Harry had in mind for the plantation. Giles said that, on the return of the lady, he and his family would come to welcome her and discuss his family's possible return to the plantation. His boys were getting older, and he must be thinking of their futures: he had been seriously considering moving them all to Jamaica, where there would be more opportunity for them, but now, with Cray and his minions gone from St. Claire, who knew what opportunities might arise here at home? In the meantime, he and his wife begged AnaMaria and the plantation residents to consider themselves welcome at the Northtown settlement at any time and to keep them informed of Lady Fanshawe's return.

Since she had returned with the Scourge of Piracy himself, however, it was some days before the Lightfoots were able to make themselves known to her. They commiserated with AnaMaria, and welcomed her into their home, where she spent several surprisingly happy days visiting with Miriam, helping the woman with various household chores and crafts, and entertaining the family with stories of Captain Jack Sparrow and the _Black Pearl_, and with an account of the circumstances surrounding Cray's death. Ana did not say it in so many words, but Giles and Miriam were fascinated to gather that the famous pirate captain and the Dowager Duchess had grown to be uncommonly friendly during the latter exploit. Miriam was not sure she approved of her children being exposed to such goings on, if and when the _Black Pearl_ returned to the island, but Giles shrugged it off, saying that the nobility were notorious for their disregard of society's usual notions of morality, and he supposed they'd conduct themselves discreetly enough in any case. By the time Norrington and the _Dauntless_ sailed away again, the whole family was agog to meet the owner of St. Claire Island.

Norrington had questioned Harry and all the residents of the plantation and was quite satisfied that Jack Sparrow had done well in taking the law into his own hands and killing Cray. He was also inclined to turn a blind eye to the sale of Cray's henchmen in the slave market in Haiti, although it was a question whether hanging would have been the more merciful penalty. Norrington was not pleased to hear that Harry had ended up spending an entire night locked in a storeroom with Sparrow, but the lady assured him that the pirate had behaved with perfect propriety during that episode, and, indeed, through the whole of the adventure. Norrington looked skeptical, but did not pursue the matter further, to Harry's relief.

However, before climbing into the longboat that would return him to the _Dauntless_, Norrington took Harry aside once more to warn her against Sparrow.

"This island of yours is potentially of great value to him in his nefarious activities. I ask you again, Lady Fanshawe: please beware of becoming over familiar with him. His manner leads one to give trust where it is not warranted. He may be a good man, in many ways, but he is not an honest one!"

Trying to stifle her impatience, Harry said kindly, "Yes, I feel certain you are right, Commodore. I do appreciate your concern. I thank you for returning me to my new home! Have a safe journey back, and give my regards to Weatherby, will you?"

Norrington sighed. "I will," he said, and bid her adieu.

o-o-o

It was nearly three weeks later when the _Black Pearl_ was sighted on the horizon, heading into the South Bay. A large party from the plantation, including Harry, Rachel, AnaMaria, Judah, and Giles and Miriam Lightfoot, among others, stood on the beach by the time the ship was anchored and a longboat launched for shore. Their joyous anticipation turned to concern, however, when AnaMaria said, in a worried tone, "Jack's alone!"

It was true: Jack was accompanied only by the two men who rowed the boat, though there was room for at least a half dozen more. When the boat drew closer, they could see that Jack looked unusually grim, and so the party held back from rushing into the warm, shallow water to greet him and help with the boat.

The boat dug into the sand, and Jack jumped out and waded toward them, saying, "Stay back! All of you! We've sickness on board."

"Jack! No!" exclaimed Harry, her heart freezing.

Jack stopped at the water's edge and looked at her, longing and fear in his gaze. "Don't come near me: it might be smallpox."

"Oh, God!" Harry whispered, the exclamation a prayer from the heart. Smallpox was highly contagious, and usually deadly. Those that did survive were nearly always marked with the most hideous scarring. In some ports it was common practice to burn ships that were discovered to carry persons afflicted with the malady!

"How do you know it is smallpox?"

The question had come from Miriam Lightfoot. Giving her husband a soothing look, she stepped forward to address this exotic-looking pirate captain, who had apparently resumed his former mode of dress after the Turner's wedding—Lady Harry had set them all laughing one evening with her droll description of the event.

Harry said, "Jack, this is Miriam Lightfoot. She is a friend."

Jack nodded. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. And to answer your question, I don't know it. I only know Owens and a couple of the men have taken very ill and come out all over in spots."

"Not Owens!" Harry exclaimed in dismay, for she had grown very fond of the Cabin Boy who had shared in the adventure with Cray.

"Aye. Poor little devil was the first laid up with it, two days ago. But O'Brien and Hadley joined him yesterday, and they're already a bit worse off than Owens."

"Captain Sparrow," said Miriam, "I have experience dealing with smallpox—I was a milkmaid when I was a lass, back in England, and such are known to have more resistance to the illness. I later had it myself, along with some members of my family, but my case was very mild and I recovered quickly enough that I could help nurse the others. One cannot contract it a second time. It may be that I can determine if your men have the illness, and help them."

Jack looked at her in surprise. "You'd do that for us?"

Mrs. Lightfoot laughed gently. "We've heard so much about you and your adventures in the last few weeks we quite feel we know you!"

Jack raised a brow at this, glancing at Harry and AnaMaria, but said to Miriam, "Right, then. I'd be in your debt, ma'am, if you'd help us."

The next hour was a terrible one for Harry and the others. After Jack helped Miriam Lightfoot into the longboat and set off for the Black Pearl again, everyone sat down on the sand to wait for news. The minutes dragged by, no one feeling any desire to indulge in idle conversation. Harry sat with her chin on her knees, watching the ship for any sign of Jack's return, and prayed most fervently that Michael Owens, especially, would be spared. The boy had been through too much already in his short life, having been orphaned at eleven and subsequently mistreated by a tyrant of a mistress before Jack had taken him on as Cabin Boy.

Finally, figures were seen coming down the rope ladder to the longboat: the rowers, and Jack…and then they were followed by Miriam, Gibbs and several others! Harry jumped to her feet, clasping her hands in anticipation as the boat was rowed to shore again. Jack didn't say anything until they'd landed, but there was a smile on his face.

He jumped out of the boat. "It's chicken pox!" he said, almost laughing. The announcement was for everyone, but his open arms were for Harry and she ran to him, right through the water, and fell into his embrace.

They hugged each other for a long moment. "God, I was so scared," he murmured against her hair, so that only she could hear. Tears stung her eyes and she tightened her arms around him.

Miriam Lightfoot, observing the couple's joy, lifted a brow and smiled at her husband. Then she said to Rachel, "Is there a chance you have oatmeal in the pantry at Island House?"

"There's a ten pound sack—Lady Harry brought it from Port Royal. I know what you're thinkin': oatmeal baths!"

Miriam smiled and nodded. "The three are very uncomfortable with itching, and are very feverish as well, although not dangerously so. But an oatmeal bath would help with both!"

Harry, breaking a little away from Jack, turned and said: "I've the loveliest bathtub—it's lined with porcelain, and painted with cherubs and satyrs and roses and things. We could use it!"

"We'd best take it to the ship, though," said Jack. "No need exposing the whole plantation to illness, even if it is just chicken pox."

"Yes, you're right," said Rachel. "Most of us have had it at one time or another, but some folks take it harder than others and it's best to stay clear of it if you can."

"I had it when I was six," Harry reminisced. "I made Weatherby read to me for hours! He was very good at it—he could do all the voices! He was very glad when I was well enough to read to myself!"

"No doubt of that!" Jack said, grinning.

"Well, now I can return the kindness," Harry said. "I'll fetch some of my favorite books, and a few clothes and come help nurse the invalids. You won't mind me staying on the Pearl again?" she added, her eyes twinkling into his.

"No, can't say that I would," Jack drawled, giving her a surreptitious pinch on the backside, and smirking at her startled gasp.

o-o-o

The next ten days were tiring but happy for everyone. Even the invalids were as content as they could be, for they had never experienced such pampering in their lives. The bathtub, which was a work of art decadent enough to bring a blush to Miriam Lightfoot's cheek, was set up in the crew's quarters and put to excellent use. Owens and the men took turns sitting in lukewarm, freshwater baths fortified with finely ground oatmeal and, rather to their chagrin, a drop of Harry's Attar of Roses. Jack's cook, Anatole, supplied with luxuries from the island, did his utmost to concoct delicacies that would tempt the appetite of the most finicky victim of the malady. Alphonse, whom Jack had paid handsomely for his work in preparing him for the wedding, took it on himself to assume the role of head nurse, having done so many times for his really rather annoying master, Beauvais, whom the valet was having grave second thoughts about rejoining. The valet's underlings in the sickroom included the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham herself, for she made herself available at all times and would take on any task she was given, much to the man's surprise: he would like to have seen his former master grinding oatmeal, or coaxing an ailing young one to eat, or reading aloud to the invalids for hours! She tried to be unobtrusive, as well, moving about quietly when her charges slept, and speaking in a quiet tone. Her only fault was that she would forget to eat or sleep herself, unless reminded. But when she began to look too worn--and Alphonse soon grew to be aware of her every mood and expression—the valet would go in search of Captain Sparrow, who would take her off to his cabin for a much-needed respite.

Jack had moved the _Pearl_ to the little secret cove on the west side of the island on the morning after their arrival. "Pearl's Rest" Harry had dubbed it the first time she'd seen it, and the name had stuck. Jack set the majority of his crew to work rebuilding the dock in the little cove, clearing the paths that led through the wood and round the edge of the island to the plantation house, and helping the plantation residents with various projects. In order to provide a quiet space for the sufferers, these crewmembers stayed at Island House at night, filling the many bedrooms and feeling pampered themselves, what with real beds, good food, and interestingly different work to do during the day. Evenings were a great pleasure, everyone partaking of the island's excellent rum, and lingering on the wide veranda in back of the house which looked to the sea.

Jack himself worked as hard as anyone, although he took frequent breaks to check on Owens and the others, and to visit with Harry. At least once a day he would coax Harry off the ship, though she never could seem to lose her fear of heights and of negotiating the rope ladder. Once on shore, however, her mood would brighten again and they had great fun exploring the portions of the island that were near Pearl's Rest. It was a beautiful place, and they found several spots that were ideally suited to activities they would normally reserve for Jack's cabin aboard the _Black Pearl_.

Harry also insisted that Jack resume instructing her in the art of swordplay. He was by no means averse to this, and also presented her with a beautiful dagger, telling her that it would be as well if she learned to use that weapon properly, too: with a pirate captain for a lover, who knew what adventures lay around the corner? Always best to be prepared! She, and Owens when he began to rise from his sickbed, practiced throwing their weapons daily, although a small fracas had to be smoothed over when Harry nearly impaled Alphonse as he came through the door at an inopportune moment.

Harry and Jack were practicing with the swords on the beach one afternoon, a week and a half after the Pearl's arrival. Owens and the other convalescents were watching, for they were now allowed on deck to take a little sun and air if they would remain quiet. Harry seemed, unaccountably, to be the more aggressive of the two this day, and finally Jack broke off in the middle of a sequence and backed away, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

"What's wrong? Are you all right?" asked Harry, concerned at this unprecedented occurrence. She dropped her sword and came to him, noting with some concern that he looked a little pale under his tan, his eyes unnaturally bright. And there was something else. She stared, then began to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Jack complained. "Got a devilish headache is all." But then he saw what she was looking at: spots on his chest, and on his abdomen as she opened more of his shirt. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed in consternation.

"I thought you said you'd had it!" Harry said accusingly.

He looked at her, and said in dismay, "I thought I had! Maybe…" He tried to think back. "Maybe it was measles I had."

Harry shook her head. "All right, my lad. Back to the _Pearl_ and to bed with you!"

By that night the symptoms had taken hold with a vengeance, and he knew he was for it indeed, as were Harry and Alphonse, who nursed him.

He had rarely been abed with illness since early childhood, but, having endured many episodes of compulsory inactivity due to various wounds received in the course of his career, he had learned to be a reasonably good patient and refrained from complaining more than a few times a day of his splitting head and feverish aching, and the abominable itching; the temperature of the cabin (too cold, or, alternately, too hot); the rough feel of his pillows and bedclothes; the slight but persistent nausea that made him refuse even Anatole's most careful creations; his terrible thirst, and no, he didn't want any tea! And couldn't they add just a bit more rum to the water, and perhaps there was still some ice to be had, would they please send to the house to ask Rachel. He spent a great deal of time in the oatmeal baths Harry and Alphonse prepared for him at any hour of the day or night, for none of the others had been as full of spots as he, and he was, as a result, extremely uncomfortable for a solid week. After that, fortunately for all of them, the symptoms began to slowly abate, more rest could be had by the trio, and frayed tempers began to mend.

They had a difficult time keeping him abed, once he began to recover, though the brief excursions left him rather exhausted. He began to receive more visitors but, instead of making him more accepting of his confinement, this made him long to be up and doing. They had been at St. Claire three weeks, now, and he felt it was high time they thought of returning to sea: they'd miss the Spanish treasure ships altogether if they lingered much longer! If only he wasn't as weak as a cat!

One afternoon toward the end of the second week of his illness, Harry came in to check on him and found maps and charts strewn across the big table along with a straight-edge and pen which showed signs of having been abruptly discarded, and a half-empty tankard of rum sitting next to them. Jack was in bed with the covers pulled up to his eyes, which were bright with laughter and guilt.

She stalked over to the bed, trying to look severe. "And just what have you been doing here, my lad?" She shook her head. "I don't know what you deserve!"

A brown hand snaked from under the covers to catch her wrist and draw her toward him. "You can think of something creative," he said slyly, his guilty look giving way to a glint of playfulness.

She gave a snort of laughter. "Feel better today, do we?"

"I am, a bit. But perhaps we should see how you feel?" he replied, and embarked on a slow and thorough investigation of this question.

Much later Harry lay close beside him, watching him as he slept. He was half turned toward her with one arm flung over her waist, quite spent by the preceding interlude. Madness, she thought, running light fingers over his tangled hair. But, then again, madness is often very underrated. And she closed her eyes and opened herself to the moment of peace and happiness that had been granted them.

o-o-o

The _Black Pearl_ had lain at anchor nearly a month when Jack finally set the day of their departure. Harry's was not the only heart that ached at the thought, for AnaMaria was going too, this time, and Judah wore a very solemn look as the pirate packed her things and took them back to the ship.

Harry pasted a smile on her face and busied herself with seeing that the _Black Pearl_ was well provisioned with every commodity and luxury that could be spared. In a month or so she would have to return to Port Royal to get more supplies, but in the meantime she could not deny Jack and the crew the island's best, for they had done so much to help with the rebuilding of the plantation that the work was nearly complete. Harry and the other residents would soon be able to concentrate on next year's sugar cane crop, and ultimately with the production of what she hoped would be the finest rum in the Caribbean. She had her work to do, as Jack had his, however unlawful.

He planned to sail the _Black Pearl_ into the Western Caribbean, and hoped to catch and raid a Spanish treasure ship. This enterprise was fraught with peril, Harry knew, for those ships were huge and ran heavily armed and would not be easy prey. Harry wondered briefly if she would ever see her love again, but then sternly pushed the thought aside. She had chosen to give her heart to one whose life was ever at risk, and the only way to cope with this was to live in the moment, absorbing every bit of joy they were allowed and using the memory of that joy as a shield against fear.

On the last night, they stood on the quarterdeck together, looking out across the water. Jack had brought the Pearl round to the South Bay again, and the ship swayed gently in the slight chop and swell. There was a storm coming, and Jack's face was already alight with anticipation. And Harry, looking toward the far horizon, understood that the _Black Pearl_ was his home, and she must be content with her little corner of his heart, which truly belonged to the sea.


	5. Revelations

**Chapter 5: _Revelations_**

****

Harry awoke with a groan, dizzy and sick, and opened her eyes to find herself abed in her room at Island House, looking into the concerned faces of Rachel and Miriam Lightfoot, hovering over her. "What happened?" she asked, and then pressed her lips together, willing her stomach to settle.

Miriam placed a cool cloth on Harry's forehead, and the Dowager Duchess sighed a little. She let her eyes drift closed again.

"You fainted," said Rachel, bluntly.

Harry frowned, and said, "I never faint!"

"Well, you never had a baby before either. First time for everything."

Harry's eyes flew open. "What?"

Rachel nodded, a grim little smile tipping the corners of her mouth.

"I can't be! You must be mistaken," said Harry, firmly, her brows twitching together. "I was married for two years, and there was never any sign of such a thing!"

"That so?" said Rachel, in a voice laced with sarcasm. "Well, all I've got to say to that is Jack Sparrow ain't any sixty-year-old Duke!"

Harry stared at her, absorbing this home truth, then looked rather pleadingly at Miriam.

Miriam shook her head. "I'm afraid Rachel's right, my dear. Although she could have been a little gentler in the telling." She gave the housekeeper a look of mild admonishment.

Rachel gave a slight 'hmmph', and began to scold her mistress, saying, "It's best you stop ignoring what's been under your nose these past three weeks, Lady Harry! Why do you think you've been feelin' sick in the mornings? You need to stop tryin' to learn every job on the plantation and start thinkin' about yourself, and especially about that baby! Makin' soap on a hot day like this! Why I came close to faintin' myself!"

"But I can't be!" Harry said again, but weakly, finally starting to acknowledge that it might be true. And if it was! Oh, what on earth would Jack say? And her brother would likely be ripe for Bedlam when she told him. He would not understand at all how it was with her and Jack. Jack. Oh lord. "I…I never thought…" she began, but her voice trailed off.

"No," said Miriam, sadly. "But usually one cannot…ah…play with fire, without being burned."

Harry looked slightly insulted, then filled with consternation, and then incredulity. "A baby…" she said, wonder in her voice. Oddly, a little frisson of happiness swept through her. She looked at Rachel, and a bemused smile touched her lips. "Really?"

Rachel nodded, her own expression softening. "Things'll work themselves out in due time, don't you worry," she said, her tone gentler now. "But like I said, you need to take care of yourself and that little one. No more heavy work around here, and you rest in the heat of the day, you hear?"

"Yes," said Harry slowly. Her eyes lost their focus and her head began to whirl with visions of Jack, her brother, and a tiny, dark-haired creature wrapped in soft blankets.

"We'll leave you to think and rest now, my dear," said Miriam gently. "But, as Rachel said, don't worry! Everything will be fine."

o-o-o

Two weeks later, Harry was aboard the _Bonny Lass_, the forty-foot ketch that had belonged to her late cousin. Accompanied by Giles Lightfoot and his older son, Davis, and by several of the soon-to-be-former slaves from the plantation, Harry was sailing to Port Royal to stock up with needed supplies, and to visit with Elizabeth and Will, and, less happily, her brother.

She had quite decided not to tell Weatherby about the baby at this juncture: after all, there was nothing to be done about it, and it was certainly not evident as yet. Rachel thought she was likely about two months along now. Seven to go, then. Plenty of time to inform her staid sibling that he would shortly enjoy the felicity of becoming an Uncle. In any case, she really much preferred that Jack be told first.

Well, not first, precisely. Everyone on the island seemed to have a good idea of what was toward already! She did not think Rachel or Miriam had spoken of it, but after all, she had fainted away in front of a dozen people, and was now obediently heeding Rachel's advice about resting more in the afternoons. The kitchen staff had likely noticed her lack of appetite as well. And apparently the residents of St. Claire had gleaned the identity of the father, too: one small girl had come up to her and asked her if the new baby would wear beads in its hair, like Captain Jack! Harry had been rendered quite speechless by this—not an easy feat! But she had been spared further embarrassment by the mother of the girl, who had shushed the child and apologized, and quickly took her away.

Well, it hardly mattered. The situation would soon be quite obvious to everyone. But she had also decided that Rachel and Miriam were right: all would be well. She would tell Jack, but she would assure him that this complication would make no difference in the nature of their relationship: she would not allow him to compromise the freedom he had so recently regained. She was a wealthy woman, surrounded by people she was rapidly growing to know and love, and there would be no difficulty in providing a good home for the child. There was of course the stigma of illegitimacy to be considered, and it did upset her that her little one would be saddled with such a burden. As for herself, well, she was the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham! This evidence of moral laxity would not lead society to consider her entirely lost to decency, as would be the fate of a woman of lesser rank. Folk would likely just consider her conduct typical of the nobility--a bit daft, but no more than could be expected of one born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

She thought these things, and then wondered if she was indeed daft. After all, one was capable of justifying any sort of behavior to oneself, if one gave the matter enough convoluted thought. Moreover, she had an unpleasant feeling that Jack's rather unpiratical streak of chivalry would impede his acceptance of her logic. But she would deal with that as the problem arose.

In the meantime, she rested and enjoyed the clouds and wind and the light on the sea, and the company of her companions, and tried very hard not to worry about things that could not be helped.

o-o-o

Governor Swann entered his sister's room without ceremony. "Harry! What in blazes do you mean by traipsing through the town dressed in a man's suit of clothing? It's the outside of enough!"

"Oh, the devil! Who on earth recognized me?" exclaimed his sister, trying to fasten a necklace of diamonds and amethysts at the back of her neck.

"Here, let me do that," said Weatherby, taking the two ends of the necklace from her. "It was Mrs. Tolliver who saw you—a dreadful old Tabby, but her word counts in the town. And, by the way, how many times must I remind you that the habit of swearing is a most unappealing trait in a female?"

"I shall strive to remember it the next time I wish to appeal to you," said Harry, tartly. "This is a fine greeting, I must say! I have not been here above an hour and already you are scolding!"

"There!" Weatherby said, having succeeded in fastening the necklace. He looked up into the mirror at his little sister. A look of combined hauteur, mulishness, and amusement animated the pretty face, and Weatherby's heart warmed in spite of his irritation. "If you would but conduct yourself with the propriety which our parents, and then George and I tried to instill in you…! But your behavior has gone from bad to worse since your marriage, and has been particularly execrable since coming out to the Caribbean!"

Harry's mouth twisted as she tried not to laugh. Lord! If he only knew! But she said, "You are very right. Perhaps I should not assume I am welcome here, where all is ordered with such perfect decorum."

Weatherby rolled his eyes a bit. "Harry, don't be a fool. Of course you are welcome here at any time. But really, you must understand that your exalted title does not give you license to ride roughshod over convention! I know it seems as though our standards are more relaxed than those of London, but this is also a much smaller arena for your activities and any little deviation is noticed, and reflects badly on all of us."

Harry sighed, quite tired of this conversation already. "Very well. I shall strive to conduct myself with the insipidity you seem to desire. It's a wonder Elizabeth isn't a dead bore, considering your notions of correctness."

Weatherby lifted a brow, and eyed his sister narrowly. "Yes, well, you certainly aren't a dead bore, and I pretty much had the raising of you, too. Likely I was too lenient with both of you, but it's late days to repine on that score. Elizabeth and Will are coming over from the house. Are you ready to come down to dinner?"

Harry rose from the vanity bench and turned to her brother. She was a vision in pale lavender and lace. "I'm ready. In spite of your greeting, or lack thereof, I am happy to see you again." She smiled a little at him.

His expression softened, and he embraced her briefly. "And I you, my dear." He released her and looked her over. "I must say, your appearance at present leaves nothing to be desired! That's a beautiful get-up. Paris, again?"

"Yes, of course. You don't think the color makes me look peeked?" She smoothed the front of the dress.

"With those roses in your cheeks? I should say not! You turned out a great beauty at least, even if you are a dreadful hoyden."

"Weatherby! You will turn my head with such effusive compliments!" she said, taking his arm.

o-o-o

Will and Elizabeth were waiting in the hall, Elizabeth looking lovelier than ever, and Will looking happy but a little uncomfortable in the formal attire required at his father-in-law's dinners. Harry embraced them with unalloyed joy.

"You look as though married life agrees with both of you!" she commented, and smiled to see them glance at each other in agreement, Elizabeth blushing rosily.

Weatherby eyed the couple with some pride and said, "They seem to be getting on quite famously, and Will is becoming most successful in his business already. He works very hard!"

"As do I, Father!" exclaimed Elizabeth. She said to her Aunt, "We have one servant, but even so I have learnt a great deal about keeping our little house, and even cooking! Roberts, Father's chef, has been kind enough to teach me."

Harry asked Will, "And are these culinary adventures to your liking?"

Will smiled. "Most of the time. But we have recourse to the Governor's table if disaster occurs, which it has on a couple of occasions."

Harry laughed.

Elizabeth pouted a bit, though her eyes twinkled. "Well, you've no notion how difficult it is! I do the very best I can!"

Will's eyes smiled and he picked up her hand and kissed it. Then he said, soulfully, "I love every dish you prepare, sweetheart. Even the burnt ones."

The laughter occasioned by this was interrupted by Beck, who announced that dinner was ready. The company retired to the dining room.

It was a long and lively dinner, with several courses consisting of many dishes, of which the Dowager Duchess partook very sparingly. Conversation was light, though Harry had some difficulty keeping from mentioning the _Black Pearl's_ visit to St. Claire Island and all its attendant excitement. She kept the conversation focused more on the newlyweds, and learned a great deal about their degree of happiness both from what was said and what was not. It was obvious they were very much in love.

Finally, Weatherby pushed his chair back. "I must see to some paperwork, now. Elizabeth, I daresay you and Will would like to show your aunt your little home."

"Yes! Will you come with us to see it, Aunt?"

"With the greatest pleasure!"

The night was lit with stars and the air was soft and scented with flowers and greenery as they crossed the gardens. A little gravel-lined path crunched under their feet as they walked through the stand of tropical trees to where the Turner residence stood, with its attendant view of the sea. There was a light in the window, and the new servant, Emmaline, a red-faced but capable young woman in her mid-twenties, was there to greet them. Emmaline sank in a low curtsey when she was introduced to Harry, and her face reddened even more at the Dowager Duchess's friendly greeting. Then she said to Elizabeth, "I'll just go get some tea, ma'am," and scurried off to the kitchen, with a parting look of admiration directed at Harry.

"Well!" said Elizabeth, a little surprised. "You have certainly impressed her!"

"Yes," said her Aunt, with an airy wave of her hand. "It must be my aura of elegance and sophistication." Then she spoiled the effect of this by giving a slight snort as she broke into laughter.

Elizabeth laughed too, but said, "Well you are elegant and sophisticated!"

"And a complete rogue!" Will smiled.

"Yes, that's what Jack thinks," Harry said, "and he should know, being one himself!"

"You've seen him, then?"

"Yes, I have, and I'll tell you about it. But first show me the house."

Elizabeth took her Aunt all over the little house, pointing out its many comforts and luxuries, and in particular the touches she had given it herself that made it a home.

"It is a charming place!" declared Harry. "You are very fortunate, my loves. Many young couples are together for years before they acquire a residence of their own. Do you mind living in such close proximity to the Governor's Mansion?"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"It's worked out quite well, actually," agreed Will. "Although I'd like to be able to visit with her during the day, when I'm at work at the smithy. But she comes to see me most days."

"Oh, does she, then?" smiled Harry, knowingly.

"To bring him lunch!" Elizabeth said, but then she blushed. "And…other things."

"Particularly other things, I've no doubt." The Dowager Duchess nodded sagely.

"Speaking of other things," said Will, his eyes glinting, "how's Jack?"

Harry laughed. "_Touché_! You are something of a rogue yourself, Will. Jack is well, or was the last time I saw him. It's been several weeks since we parted, but the _Black Pearl_ stayed nearly a month at St. Claire."

"A month! How is this?" exclaimed Will, surprised.

"Let us sit down in your cozy drawing room and I will tell you about it."

Harry was a good storyteller, and there was a great deal of both commiseration and laughter in the little room as the tale of Jack's stay was related.

"Jack struck down with chicken pox!" Elizabeth finally said, very much amused. "Oh, I do look forward to teasing him about it!"

"But you say the _Pearl_ was going after a Spanish treasure ship?" Will said, sounding a little concerned.

"Yes. It's been a month now, so perhaps we shall get word of him soon," said Harry. "At least…well, I hope so."

"I suppose you do, Aunt," said Elizabeth, now full of sympathy. "If it worries us that he has embarked on so hazardous a venture, how much more must you feel!"

"Yes. And it's…it's not only that." Harry looked up at them, suddenly hesitant. "I…ah…have some news for him." She smiled crookedly at their sudden look of concerned puzzlement, and said, rather bluntly, "I'm increasing."

Will's eyes widened in shock, but it was a moment before the significance of the cryptic phrase was born in on Elizabeth. Then she breathed, "Aunt! You cannot mean…a baby?"

Harry's crooked smile widened, and she nodded. Seeing Will's appalled expression, she said apologetically, "I know it is quite mad of me, but I can't help being happy about it. Though what Jack will say, I can't imagine!"

"How long…?" stammered Elizabeth, looking at her aunt's still slim figure.

"Almost two months now, we think. I won't show much yet awhile. But it's quite true, for all that."

"Oh, Aunt!" Elizabeth said, dismayed. "Does my father know?"

Harry sighed. "No," she said, "and I beg you to say nothing. I may tell him before we sail home in a week, but then again I may wait. There is nothing to be done, after all, and it will only upset him. I want to have a pleasant stay, this time."

"But Aunt! Don't you think…I mean…"

Will completed her thought, saying seriously, "Will you marry Jack?"

"Marry him!" said Harry in surprise. "No! I cannot imagine he would want to, and I would not ask it of him."

Elizabeth said, distressed, "But Aunt! You love him!"

"Yes, of course. And he loves me. But usually that has little to do with marriage, my dear. No, I told you before: he was not meant to be married to anyone but his ship and the sea. I knew that before ever we began, and it hasn't changed in spite of our growing love. No, I will be content if he merely visits us on St. Claire occasionally. I am quite determined to make my home there. Everything will be fine, believe me. Even Weatherby will come 'round eventually."

Will eyed his flighty relative, and said skeptically, "Jack's ideas on the subject may not be quite in alignment with your own, Aunt Harry."

Harry straightened, and said briskly, "Well, he will come 'round too. I never meant to be a burden to him, and, as I have a great many personal resources, I don't need to be: not to him, nor indeed to anyone."

"But the child will be…" Elizabeth broke off, unable to say the words.

"A bastard?" Harry supplied, sadly. "I know. But there is nothing that can be done about it. I could not bring myself to marry again." She looked at the pair, who looked very dismayed. "Don't worry!" Harry assured them. "Everything will work out as it should!"

Emmaline came in to refresh the tea things then, so that conversation shifted back to less volatile subjects.

Harry took her leave shortly thereafter, pleading weariness, which was certainly true: she found herself needing more sleep all the time, now. But her young relatives discussed and worried over the difficult situation far into the night.

o-o-o

The next afternoon, Harry was coming in from a shopping expedition in the town when Beck told her solemnly that the Governor would like to see her in the library.

"Oh, indeed!" Harry said lightly, though inwardly she stiffened with wariness. She had endured many a summons to the library at Weatherby's behest in her girlhood, and knew that such an interview would likely be unpleasant. He had never beaten her, of course—witness him still drawing breath, which would not else have been the case!—but he had a devilish sharp tongue when he felt inclined to use it, and knew her well enough to be able to draw the desired response from her if she had erred in some way. Over the years she had grown more aware of his tactics and knew how to shield herself more effectively, but she had been relieved when she had married and was no longer subject to his notions of good behavior. And she suspected he was just as grateful to be rid of her!

Now, however…well, what could it be? Except…but no! How could he have found out? She contemplated asking Beck to tell her brother she would be down shortly, just to put Weatherby in his place a bit, but then abruptly decided against it, curiosity and a desire to be done with it getting the better of her. So she said, "Very well. Thank you, Beck," and went down the hall and into the library.

She closed the door behind her. Weatherby was standing near the window, looking out, his hands behind his back, but at the sound of the door closing he turned toward her. He did not look angry. He looked cold, which was a great deal worse.

"What is it?" she demanded, determined to draw some emotion from him.

"A rumor has come to my ears, sister: servants gossip, maybe, but very disturbing nonetheless. The rumor has it that you are with child."

Oh dear, she thought. Well, there was nothing for it but to brazen it out. She steeled herself inwardly, and said, "Where did you hear this?"

"Never mind where I heard it!" he snapped. "Is it true?"

"Yes, it is true," she said simply.

"My God, Harry," he said in a near whisper. Then sharply, "Who is the father?"

Who was the father! Well, at least that bit of information was still hidden from him. "That is none of your concern, brother," she said, lifting her chin a bit.

"None of my…Harry! Have you gone mad? You tell me you are expecting a child when you've been a widow these eight years, and you tell me it is none of my concern?"

"My widowhood has nothing to do with the issue. I am of age, and of independent means. I am sorry if you believe it reflects badly on the Swann name, but there is nothing I can do about that at this point. I will not tell you the name of the father. Now are we quite through?"

Her brother was almost rendered speechless by her calmly defiant statement. Finally, he managed to get out, "This is beyond belief! How far along are you?"

"Two months," said Harry.

"Two months," repeated her brother. "Then it is someone from that island of yours!"

Harry sighed. "It is not. His identity is none of your concern. I was not ravished, Weatherby. I was full willing, though I had no idea this would happen—Charles had failed to get me with child and I was with him for two years! But now that it is fact, I do not regret it, nor will I marry because of it, neither the father, nor any man. If you wish to disassociate yourself from us, I will be saddened of course, but I will understand. I can pack my things and go this instant, in fact."

"Don't be absurd," said her brother. "As well tell the town crier! My God. What a devilish coil!"

"It is not a devilish coil. It is a baby. My baby. Your niece or nevvie. And the child will not be inherently base because of my sin. He or she will be the darling of my heart, as Elizabeth is to you, and I will do the best I can to be a good mother. And that is all that needs to be said. If you permit me to stay, I thank you, but I'll relieve you of my presence at dinner tonight, I believe. If a tray could be sent up, I would be grateful: I have the headache a little. Good night."

And with that, she left the room, and Weatherby Swann stared at the door through which she'd gone, quite stunned.

o-o-o

A half hour later, the door opened and Beck announced in sonorous tones, "Commodore James Norrington."

"The devil!" muttered Swann, who'd been sitting behind his desk, his head in his hands. Beck should have known he was not at home to visitors! He looked up as the Commodore entered the room.

The Commodore stopped, and looked at the Governor with some concern. When Beck had shut the door again, Norrington said, "Governor Swann! Is anything amiss?"

"Oh, no! Nothing amiss!" Weatherby said, with withering sarcasm. Then he gathered himself, and said, "No. Forgive me. Just a bit…ah…blue-deviled, so to speak. What can I do for you James?"

Norrington said slowly, "I've brought the latest dispatches from London for you to read, sir."

"Have you? Well, just set 'em on the table there. I appreciate you bringing them up yourself."

"Governor Swann," said Norrington firmly, "I can see that there is something troubling you greatly. If there is anything I can do to help, in any way…"

Swann looked at the Commodore, and his eyes slowly narrowed. "You took Harry back to St. Claire," he said, slowly.

"Yes. What of it?"

Swann frowned. "This conversation must go no further than this room, do you understand me, James?"

Norrington looked a little taken aback, but nodded and said, "Yes. Of course."

Swann asked him, "Did my sister speak to you…did she ever indicate to you that she had a…romantic involvement?"

Norrington stared. "Why do you ask this, Governor?"

Swann sighed. "Because half an hour ago she was standing where you are now, confirming that she is with child, and refusing to identify the blackguard who got her that way."

"Oh, good God!" said Norrington, as stunned as the Governor had been. But then his countenance hardened. "Blackguard indeed!" he said harshly.

Swann's brow creased suddenly. "You know who it is?" he demanded.

Norrington looked at the Governor, hesitating only a moment before saying, "I believe so. It is the pirate, Jack Sparrow."

Swann stood up and stared in disbelief. "What? How can that be possible? What makes you say such an outlandish thing?"

"Do you not remember Sir John Wainfleet, your sister's friend, at the wedding? That was Sparrow, got up in disguise. She knew it, as did Elizabeth and Will, as though it was planned between them all." Swann only stared, speechless, so Norrington continued. "And there is something else: when I offered the three my escort aboard the _Dauntless_, after the incident of the Bride's Auction and the subsequent visit to St. Claire and its attendant adventure, your sister expressed her thanks to Sparrow in rather too warm a manner."

"What did she do?" Swann demanded, all kinds of unbelievable scenarios leaping to his agitated mind.

"She…ah…embraced him and kissed him."

"Kissed him!"

Norrington nodded, and added, "Rather thoroughly."

"She kissed him!" Swann said again. "I cannot credit it! How on earth…how could she lower herself in such a way!"

Norrington said, bitterly, "Governor Swann, Sparrow has a way about him that makes nearly everyone forget what he really is: a blackguard, and a scoundrel of the first order. And, unfortunately, women are particularly susceptible to his charm."

Swann stared at the Commodore for a long minute. Then he said, in a voice tight with barely controlled rage, "I want that man brought to me, brought here! I want to see Harry's face when she sees him. That will tell me the truth of the matter! Will you help me do this, James? Will you bring me this pirate?"

Norrington nodded, grimly, and said, "I will!"


	6. Questioning

**Chapter 6: _Questioning_**

****

"Captain! Tom an' Robbie McGee are here, an' they want me to go home with 'em an' stay for the night! Can I please, sir?"

Jack turned to Owens and his two red-haired, freckled shadows and scowled at the three of them. "Well, I don't know. Last time you did that you brought back the blasted chicken pox!"

Tom said, "Oh, that was from Annie, our little sister, Captain Sparrow. She's all over it now!"

"Aye?" Jack said, dryly, "Well, give her my felicitations. An' tell her if she shares any more infantile maladies with me Cabin Boy we'll be usin' him for shark bait. Savvy?"

Tom and Robbie stared round eyed at Captain Sparrow, but Owens just grinned and told them, "I got it, an' then he ended up with it himself, y'see."

Jack's scowl was directed specifically at his Cabin Boy this time, as the red-haired minions tried unsuccessfully to stifle their amusement at the picture conjured up by Owens' simple words. "Not the soul of discretion today, are you, Owens?"

"Sorry, Captain," said Owens, sounding sincere in spite of his struggle to hide his own grin.

"Mmmm. Well, you can go, but be careful, an' give Annie a wide berth if she's ailin'. And be back here in the morning: I'll want your help."

"Aye, sir!"

Jack watched the three boys pound down the gangplank and break into a run as they hit the dock, heading into Tortuga and the Widow McGee's tavern. They slowed to a jaunty walk as they moved onto the street, and Jack smiled to see Owens so happy and sure of himself now. The first time Jack had taken him to meet the Widow and her offspring he'd nearly had to be dragged there, for the boy had still feared his Captain would leave him behind in spite of assurances to the contrary. Now, however, it was Owens' third visit to Tortuga (the fourth, if one counted the night they'd come for Harry at the Bride's Auction, although the boy had not been allowed off the ship that time), and he was far more confident of both Jack and himself. Still, in spite of Owens' growing friendship with the McGee boys, Jack expected his Cabin Boy would report back to the ship in the morning, as ordered. He was a good lad, and had an almost slavish admiration for Jack, a circumstance about which the pirate had mixed feelings: on the one hand it kept the boy in line, and useful as a lad his age could be; on the other, Jack was rather uncomfortable being 'set on a pedestal', as the saying went. The pirate sometimes thought he should harden his heart and send the boy off to a place where he could be raised with good schooling, and the chance of a career that did not run foul of the law. He was a bright boy, was Owens, and would do well, if given the chance. And Jack was very nearly in a position to give him such a chance.

The last month had been one of considerable success for the _Black Pearl_. They had not made it out to the western Caribbean, as Jack had originally planned. The Spanish treasure ship of his dreams would have to wait. They had run into no less than three heavily laden merchant vessels in the last few weeks, and the taking of each had been exciting and most profitable.

There had been a few deaths, one among the _Pearl's_ crew which still haunted Jack a bit: a young fellow named Garrett who'd not been with them long and had unluckily run into a very experienced swordsman on the second ship. Jack had dispatched the swordsman, but it had been too late for Garrett, who had already been mortally wounded. Jack had ordered that the lad be taken back to the _Black Pearl_, thinking there might be a chance for him, but no: on closer inspection of the wound, he knew Garrett was a dead man. After seeing to the swag, Jack had gone down to the crew's quarters and had stayed until Garrett passed, at about midnight. The fellow hadn't been in terrible pain, fortunately; but his life just seemed to fade away somehow. And, as he'd wanted to talk, Jack had stayed to listen, and to oblige him with stories of treasure, and adventure, the Pearl and the sea, and, at the last, of home and loved ones waiting.

Still, that had been virtually the only black spot in the whole month, and at the end of it they'd made their way back to Tortuga, as heavy laden as a merchantman themselves! Definitely time to offload cargo: how could the _Pearl_ be the fastest ship in the Caribbean when she was dragging about all that swag? Jack smiled to himself, thinking of the profit they'd made. He thought he'd go into town later, and look for a little gift he had in mind for Harry.

He had to admit, in spite of the excitement of the last month, he was very anxious to see her again. She would greatly enjoy the tales of their voyage. She was a most appreciative listener: other than making love, her favorite activity during their first two days alone together had been hearing the stories associated with each of the many scars he carried. He could see her now, sitting on the bed, eyes wide, kissable lips slightly parted, a rosy flush of excitement on her cheeks, and naked as the day she was born.

On the other hand, he'd best stop thinking about that, for the moment. It would be at least a couple of days before the _Pearl_ would leave for St. Claire, as the rest of the crew considered Tortuga a much better spot for cutting loose and having a good time. He'd always thought so himself, until recently. Funny how things could change so quick.

o-o-o

"Captain!_ Captain! _Open up!"

This demand, accompanied by the pounding of a fist on the door, roused Jack from sleep on their third morning in Tortuga. At least he thought it might be morning. Seemed like he'd just got to bed! He groaned, and dragged himself up, staggering a bit, still feeling the effects of the rum he'd been drinking—not two hours back! Bloody hell! It was barely dawn!

He unlatched the door and jerked it open. "What in blazes do you mean, wakin' me up this early?" he growled, and then stopped, for the seaman, whom he recognized as the nightwatch, was white as his shirt. "What is it?" he demanded, subduing the growl.

"Sir! It's the _Dauntless_! She's in the harbor and has her guns trained on the docks and the town!"

"What!" Jack exclaimed in disbelief.

He pushed past the man and stumbled up the passageway, climbed the steps two at a time and burst out the companionway doors to the main deck. He strode over to the railing, staring: sure enough, there was the _Dauntless_, looking utterly incongruous, a behemoth among the many smaller, faster pirate ships that were tied up in the harbor. Her gun ports were indeed open, and it was like looking into the face of many-eyed death.

"Mary Mother o' God!"

Jack turned to Gibbs, who had joined him at the rail.

"What do you think?" Jack demanded of the former Navy man. "Will they fire on the town?"

"I don't know! Bloody hell, how should I know? What the devil's gotten into Norrington? This ain't like him at all!"

"No, it's not," Jack said slowly. He again looked out at the enormous vessel, which showed surprisingly little activity considering the circumstances, then said to Gibbs, "I'm going below to get dressed." If they were all going to die, he'd be damned if he'd do it clad in only his breeches and shirt.

It was only a few minutes later when he came back on deck again in all his piratical splendor, but already a small crowd of townsfolk and visitors to the port had started to form on the waterfront.

"They're lowering a boat," Gibbs flung over his shoulder as Jack crossed the deck to rejoin him.

Jack, who had brought his spyglass, set it to his eye and studied the boat as it was manned. "Norrington's not with 'em." He closed the spyglass again, put it in the pocket of his coat and said, "I'm for the waterfront. Looks like they want to parley. You coming?"

"Aye."

By the time Jack and Gibbs made their way off the _Pearl_ and reached the waterfront, many other ships' captains were joining them, and there was quite a fair-sized and colorful crowd on hand when the longboat from the _Dauntless_ pulled up at the dock and tied off. There were five men in the boat, and three of them got to their feet and climbed the ladder up to the dock: two big, heavily armed men first, then the rather prissy Lieutenant Gillette, whom Jack recognized from his first stay on the _Dauntless_, during the Isla de Muerta affair.

"I am Lieutenant Gillette of His Majesty's Royal Navy. May I enquire as to the identity of the leader of this group?"

A burly man with bright red hair and whiskers, dressed in a worn but once fine suit of clothing, stepped forward and looked down at the lieutenant. "I'm the mayor of Tortuga. Phineas McCollough at yer service."

"Mayor McCollough, I bear greetings, and a message from my commanding officer, Commodore Norrington. A certain pirate, known to be staying in this port, is wanted for questioning. The matter is of some moment, and we request that the man come with us immediately, back to the _Dauntless_ and thence to Port Royal, Jamaica. In the event said pirate does not give his full cooperation to this request, Commander Norrington desired me to inform you that the _Dauntless_ will use any and all means of persuasion available to her. "

A ripple of outrage swept through the crowd, but after a moment Phineas McCollough held up his hand for quiet. When talk had died away, the mayor said to Gillette, "We understand the demand, though we're havin' some difficulty understandin' why the Navy chooses to put on such a show of force to bring in one bloody pirate for questioning!"

Gillette said, primly, "I am not privy to the machinations of the Commodore's mind, but it should suffice to say he does nothing without careful thought and planning."

"Is that so?" said Phineas, dubiously. "Well then, lad, what's the name o' this scallywag who's so vital to the Navy that they'd threaten a peace-lovin' town with annihilation to get their hands on 'im?"

"His name," Gillette announced, quite enjoying his role, "is Jack Sparrow, Captain of the _Black Pearl_."

The crowd murmured and turned as one, all eyes finding and fixing their gaze, whether of anger, pity, or amusement, on Jack, who gaped in disbelief. The crowd backed away a bit, so that Jack and Gibbs were isolated, facing the Lieutenant and his guards.

"Bloody hell!" Jack gasped, finally finding his voice. "I haven't touched an English ship or town in months!" He looked around at all the faces of his compatriots. "If I had a Letter of Marque they'd be handin' me a bleedin' medal, give you me word!"

Gillette raised his chin a bit and said, sharp and official, "Are you the pirate Jack Sparrow?"

Jack scowled at the pink-cheeked git and snapped, "You know bloody well I am!"

"You have heard the command issued by Commodore Norrington?"

"I've heard it."

"Then I must ask you to please board this vessel immediately, to avoid any further unpleasantness."

Jack knew he was trapped. Whether his friends and acquaintances felt sympathy for his plight or not, they would expect him to comply with the outrageous demand, for to refuse would put all their lives and property at risk.

His expression turning stony, he stood very straight and looked down his nose at Gillette. "I need an hour. I'll meet you here."

Gillette nodded briskly, as though he'd been told to expect this. "One hour, then. Do not be late."

Jack took one last glance at the crowd, and said, "Ye needn't worry: I'll be here."

o-o-o

"Jack! We could try to cut an' run," Gibbs said.

They were back on the _Pearl_, in Jack's cabin, where he was seeing to a few last minute details before returning to the dock and the waiting longboat.

"We couldn't and you know it. Don't be daft. They're positioned to blow us out of the water! And even if we got away, I couldn't take the chance of 'em firin' on the town, now could I?"

Gibbs was silent for a long moment. Then he said, in a falsely hearty tone, "Well, we'll be right on their tail then, Jack, don't you worry! You ain't destined to end dancin' the hempen jig."

Jack laughed shortly. "You think not? You think the whelp'll come through with another timely rescue, and Norrington let me sail away a second time unmolested? Bloody hell. What's the man thinkin'? He has it in for me, that's certain, and that he's willin' to risk bringin' the _Dauntless_ right into Tortuga Bay says how set on it he is. So you, an' Ana, an' all o' you: keep to the code. Don't bring the _Pearl_ any closer than the outer bay at Port Royal, and don't take chances tryin' to rescue me. If I can get away, fine, but if not…well, it's been a good run, aye?"

"Aye, it has. And it wouldn't have been half what it was if you'd not been at the helm o' this ship."

Jack shrugged. "You'll do fine without me." He hesitated. Then he said, "There's one more thing. Something you could do for me…if the worst happens. I've plenty of blunt set aside—everything I've made since getting the _Pearl_ back. Well, I want Owens to have it. I want you to see he gets out of the sweet trade and gets an education. I've enough to frank him at one o' those schools that cater to the sons of rich men. Harry'll help you with it. Will you see that it's done?"

"Aye, Jack," Gibbs said, gruffly.

Jack looked around his cabin. "Well, that's it then. I'd better get back."

Most of the crew was waiting on deck to see him off, having been hastily found in various places in the town and rounded up to prepare to set sail.

"Ain't you takin' your sword, Cap'n?" asked O'Brien in a worried tone.

"No, they'd just take it, and I don't want the blighters touchin' it, thank 'ee. You'll keep it for me till I get back, eh?"

"Aye, Cap'n, that we will," O'Brien replied, more cheerfully.

Ana was standing on the dock by the _Pearl's_ gangplank. She and Jack looked at each other as he walked down from the deck, and when he reached her he set his hands on her arms. "The _Pearl's_ yours if I don't come back," he said, quietly.

"You're comin' back," she stated firmly, her eyes narrowing.

His lips quivered on a smile. "Aye, then. I am." His hands tightened briefly on her arms before he let her go.

He started down the _Pearl's_ dock, away from his ship, alone. But when he'd gained the waterfront and turned toward the guest dock where the longboat lay, three figures tore around the corner of a building and headed straight for him. He stopped to watch them: Owens, and his McGee cohorts.

The McGee lads stopped, but Owens came on, slowing to a walk, his face set, his eyes full of fear. "Captain…it's true then?" The boy stopped a few feet away.

"Aye, it's true. I'll be leavin' the _Pearl_ for a bit. You'll mind Gibbs, now, and AnaMaria."

Owens nodded. His fine mouth quivered slightly, and his voice was hoarse as he said, "You'll come back?"

How was Jack to answer that? Well, he was a pirate wasn't he? "Aye, lad, I'll be back," he said lightly. But then Owens' face lit with renewed hope, and Jack's own resolve wavered. "Come here, lad," he said, finally, holding up his arms. Owens came to him, and Jack pulled him into a brief, hard hug.

Jack released him, and the boy looked up, "You'll come back?" Owens said again.

"I'll try," said Jack.

o-o-o

Jack felt utterly cold inside as the longboat approached the huge ship, the only sounds coming from the dip of the oars as they slipped through the water. That Norrington had not even come ashore to make the demand himself was a bad sign, one that filled Jack with the gravest foreboding.

His fears were confirmed when he climbed onto the deck of the _Dauntless_. Norrington was waiting for him, with several burly representatives of the King's Finest. There was none of the amused camaraderie that had softened Norrington's expression the last time Jack had seen him, when 'Sir John Wainfleet' was mounted and ready to leave the Turner's wedding; the look on the man's face now was enough to freeze Jack to the marrow.

"Put him in irons, and lock him in the brig," the Commodore said in a clipped, emotionless tone, even before Jack could say anything, and the pirate was so surprised by this precipitate order that he barely noticed the manacles being locked around his wrists, and remained uncharacteristically silent as he was hustled roughly away, below decks, to the deepest part of the ship.

He sat in the dank cell for many hours, listening to the faint sounds that came to him, of the anchor being raised, and the creak of the great ship as it caught the wind, made its way out of the harbor and took to the open sea. The brig stank, and this, combined with the motion of the ship, which seemed oddly exaggerated in this dark hole, was making him a bit ill. Or maybe it was fear.

There was a guard, but he was outside the door of the brig, so there was no conversation to be had, no one to answer the questions that bumped about in his head, driving him near to madness. This was no good! He was bloody Captain Jack Sparrow! He'd faced down death too many times to let this instance undo him. So he sat on the damp floor, and closed his eyes, and concentrated on thinking positive thoughts. Of the _Black_ _Pearl_. Of his crew. Of Will, and Elizabeth and the wedding. Of Harry. He wondered if he'd ever see her again. Or any of them. For the feeling he got from Norrington now precluded this hope.

After a long time the guard brought in some fresh water, and some ship's biscuit for Jack to eat. Jack said, "Thanks, mate!" sad, but friendly, but the fellow did not linger, and the pirate was left to his own devices for the rest of the day.

He fell asleep, finally, and when he woke to the sound of voices outside the door of the brig he had no idea what time it might be. He got to his feet and walked to the front of the cell as the door to the brig opened.

It was the Commodore. Neat as a pin, as always, in his elegant uniform and curled wig.

The officer closed the door, set the lantern he was holding on a chair and walked slowly over to the cell where Jack stood watching, expressionless but for the kohl-rimmed eyes, which narrowed, wary and puzzled, at the look of disgust being directed at him. Unlocking the door, Norrington opened it and walked in. The pirate backed to the middle of the cell, but then dug in his heels and faced down this potentially deadly foe.

"Am I to know what this is all about, then?" Jack asked, inwardly pleased at the steadiness of his voice.

Norrington looked down at him for a long moment. Then the man spoke, slowly, and with careful control. "How dared you--even you, Sparrow: a knave and charlatan of the first order! How dared you have the audacity to ravish the Governor's sister! The relation of those who spared your very life!"

Jack stared at Norrington, first knocked acock that the man knew, then debating briefly whether to lie and deny it. But no. Inwardly he stiffened, but he let a slight smile touch his lips and looked the Commodore straight in the eye as he said, "Aye, then, I did. But you must understand: the lady ravished me, as well."

From the Commodore's sudden change of expression, Jack knew the mildly humorous turn of his words had not been well received, but even so he was unprepared for the speed and violence of the retaliation. There was a blinding flash of pain as Norrington's fist connected with his jaw, then the blackness of unconsciousness took him, even before he slammed back against the bulkhead and sank to the floor of the cell.

But Norrington, having reacted out of instinct inspired by a variety of emotions, now stood for long seconds, staring down at the pirate. His sudden anger was receding as quickly as it had overwhelmed him, and now what he felt more than anything was, absurd as it seemed to him, regret. For he had no doubt that Sparrow had spoken the truth: Harry Fanshawe was certainly capable of such madness. And once she had determined an objective, it would take more resolve than Sparrow possessed to deny her. Indeed, he thought morosely, he doubted he could do it himself.

The Commodore turned abruptly, walked out and locked the door again. With a last glance at the pirate, who looked annoyingly pitiable lying in a still heap on the floor of the cell, a livid bruise and swelling already evident on his face, Norrington left the brig.

The guard was still waiting outside. Norrington addressed him, coolly. "Sparrow's had an accident. When he regains his senses, see that he gets a ration of rum."


	7. Confrontation

**Chapter 7: _Confrontation_**

****

It was after supper, and Harry was finishing up her packing, in preparation for the voyage back to St. Claire Island on the morrow, when there came a knock on the door of her room.

"Yes! Come in!" she called absently, debating whether she should risk Weatherby's wrath and wear her male attire, which would keep her far more comfortable in the drizzling weather they expected, or if she should wear the green dress and heavy cloak to please him, and get buried under ells and ells of rain-soaked fabric until she could change aboard the _Bonny Lass_.

The door opened, and the footman, Geoffrey, peeked in, with a worried look on his face. Harry glanced at him.

"Yes? What is it Geoffrey? There's no need to look like that. I won't eat you!"

Geoffrey opened the door further and straightened. "No, ma'am, but…"

"What?" Harry demanded. The man still looked worried. "What's happened?"

"If you please, ma'am. Your brother…I mean…Governor Swann requests that you join him in the library."

"Oh," said Harry, and gave a little sigh. She might have known her brother would not let her escape Port Royal without a final harangue about her situation. They had barely spoken all week, making Harry's visit exceedingly awkward for all parties. Elizabeth seemed particularly distressed by the rift that had come between her Father and her Aunt, and Will was hardly less so.

Harry said to Geoffrey, "Tell him I shall be down in five minutes, then," thinking it was better to have it over quickly, rather than give herself a chance to worry all evening. "I'm just finishing up here."

"Very well, ma'am," said Geoffrey, then added hesitantly, "but…well, it'd likely be best if you hurried."  
Harry stared in concern as he closed the door behind him.

Five minutes later, she was descending the stairs, inwardly steeling herself for another unpleasant confrontation. As she reached the foyer, there was no sign of the footman, but the butler, Beck, was there, his naturally morose expression growing even more so as he nodded to her from near the front doors.

"What an old sobersides you are, Beck!" she exclaimed, lightly, and smiled, determined to present a lighthearted front. Lord, it would be good to be gone from here on the morrow! She crossed the foyer and headed down the hall to the library doors. She tilted her chin up, and smiled a little as she opened the door and slipped in.

But her brother was not alone. As she closed the door behind her, her heart gave a sickening thud as she recognized Norrington, and, standing beside him, Jack. Her love.

There were several branches of candles lit, and his face was all planes and shadows in their light, his dark eyes filled with pain and anger. He was very much the worse for wear, bruised and unkempt, and he wore a pair of heavy iron manacles that had already made his wrists raw.

She felt the blood drain from her face, and a wave of nausea, and light flickered at the edges of her vision. She stiffened. No! She could not faint! She would not!

"What is the meaning of this?" she said, her voice not sounding like her own. She pulled herself together, her expression growing hard, her eyes beginning to blaze.

"So it is true!" her brother snapped. "This…_criminal!_ This is the father of your child! I can see it written in your face!"

She looked at Weatherby and began to speak, her voice gaining strength as she went on. "You have done this…brought him here…because of that? To play Abelard to my Heloise perhaps? Well, by God, I am no Heloise, and you will not find me taking myself off to any nunnery! And I tell you, if you do not release him immediately…if the least harm comes to him…_oh! I shall go mad!_ Take those things off him now, or I swear by Heaven and all the saints there ever were, I will make it my _life's work_ to ruin you both! I know things about each of you that would destroy your careers as surely as night follows day, and do not doubt that they would be heard in ears that matter! And if the truth is not enough, _I'll tell them lies! Now let him go!_"

Her brother, who had foolishly expected tears and pleading from his errant sister, gaped for a long moment, then looked at Norrington, then at Harry again.

"Henrietta Swann!" he tried to bluster, but she cut him off, almost shrieking in her fury.

"I am not Henrietta Swann! I am Harry Fanshawe, the bloody Dowager Duchess of Wyndham, having sold myself for George's debts and YOUR ADVANCEMENT! As well be a common whore! God's life, he was SIXTY! And now you have the unmitigated gall to tell me I am doing wrong to grab happiness with both hands when it comes to me? Release him! NOW!"

There was not a tear to be seen, only pure rage, and her brother was beginning to be afraid she'd do herself, and perhaps the babe, an injury with the indulgence of such vehemence. For all the qualities that put her constantly at odds with him, and his anger at her present predicament, Weatherby still loved her, the little sister whom he'd virtually raised himself after their parents had died. The Governor opened and closed his mouth once or twice, then grimaced and looked at Norrington and nodded briefly.

Norrington, a sardonic smile twisting his lips, withdrew the key from his pocket. "Raise your wrists, please, Sparrow," he said, his voice reflecting nothing save a slight boredom.

Jack did so, his eyes on Harry and Swann, until the manacles came away. Then he glanced down and absently rubbed his sore wrists.

Harry, watching him, set her teeth, and took a deep breath, and managed to keep from wincing when he looked up at her again. She was surprised at how steady her voice was as she said, "I am sorry you had to find out this way. But it will make no difference. I do not ask anything of you. The gift of the child is enough."

"Ask anything of him!" exclaimed her brother. "I should think not, indeed! What should you ask of this blackguard? Marriage?"

"There is no question of that," said Harry, as miserable as she'd ever been in her life, but equally determined not to show it. "I told you before: I will not marry again."

Swann said, "Harry, if you will not think of your family—of what will be said!—then think of the child! You show great naiveté if you think society will accept your bastard offspring without a blink! And there are men here on Jamaica, fine men, who would be only too happy to take you to wife, in spite of your situation."

Harry looked over at her brother, dislike writ large on her face. "I doubt it not. My wealth would be an irresistible inducement to anyone. But wealth is a great conveyor of respectability as well, brother. There will be no difficulty. I will not marry!"

And then, at last, Jack spoke for the first time, his voice harsh and cold. "You would do well to heed your brother's advice, Lady Fanshawe. Wealth cannot compensate for the lack of a father in a child's life, and well I know it, being the by-blow of a profligate myself."

The other three stared at him.

Harry felt his words like a knife to her heart. As though she could ever look at another man!

But Swann, thinking back to the wedding, and studying Jack's face closely now, said sharply, "_Wainfleet?_"

Jack looked at Swann, hesitating briefly. But then he said, "Aye. You guessed it at the wedding, didn't you? I'm held to have the look of him a bit. But I favor my mother more, so much that he couldn't bear the sight of me after her death. Put me on a ship as Cabin Boy for a year, then tucked me away as apprentice to a cartographer in Portsmouth, on a pittance for wages. No way to go home, and he never once visited, or even sent word. So I ran off to sea again at seventeen, and never looked back."

"He's still alive," Swann said, slowly, stunned at the pirate's words.

Jack laughed shortly. "Is he, then? Maybe I should pay him a visit. Pick up old threads an' all."

"Jack!" Harry said softly, pain in her voice at the bitterness in his.

But he said harshly, "Don't waste pity on me. I chose my life at seventeen, and I've no regrets. But think about someone other than your precious self for once, Lady Fanshawe: it's time to leave off actin' the spoiled _jeune fille_." He smiled grimly at her expression. "I'll take my leave now, if these fine gentlemen'll give me leave. But I'll be back in the morning—unless you think it's no concern of mine?" She said nothing, but a slow flush crept up her pale cheeks. He nodded. "G'night to you then."

He strode from the room, and the three made no move to stop him. Harry winced as the sound of the front door slamming behind him assaulted her ears.

"Well," said Weatherby. He looked at his sister. "You will delay your departure from this house, sister, and we will meet in the morning to continue this discussion."

Harry thought to herself, _By Heaven we will not!_ But she only directed a parting glance of pain and dislike at the two men before she, too, turned on her heel and left the room.


	8. Gone

**Chapter 8: _Gone_**

****

Jack walked out of the Governor's Mansion a free man. Or as free as a man could be with a ship and crew to take care of, a ladylove who just happened to be carrying his child, and a most inconvenient conscience that would not let him dismiss any of them. _Bloody hell_, he thought as he walked out the gates and down the road to the harbor, _I was freer when I had nothing!_

It was only a few months back too. But of course he had not had 'nothing': he'd had the clothes on his back, his sword and knife, the broken compass, and the pistol with one shot. That last in particular had represented heavy chains indeed: chains of obsession and revenge that had kept him chasing after Barbossa and the _Black Pearl_ for ten years. More than a quarter of his life. He had told Elizabeth that the _Black Pearl_ was freedom. Well, so it was: he could see her out there now, the familiar lights of her as she sat out of range of the fort's cannons, at the far edge of the harbor, waiting for him, ready to take him away, halfway 'round the world if he liked. But, in another way, she too was a chain, for he could not sail her alone and, for better or worse, he cared about the people that now made up his crew, the people for whom he was responsible as Captain of the _Black Pearl_.

And then of course, there was Harry. Henrietta Fanshawe, Dowager Duchess of Wyndham. "I do not ask anything of you," she'd said. But she had! From the night he'd carried her off from the Bride's Auction. There had been a kind of connection between them, right from the start, something he'd never felt with any other woman. The reality of it had been born in upon him more and more as their first week together had progressed. And then the two days he'd spent alone with her, locked in his cabin, had more than confirmed it. She was his other half, a part of himself he'd not even known was missing. The month he'd spent on St. Clair with her had been one of the happiest times of his life, in spite of the illness that had plagued him and the other members of the crew. _I ask nothing of you._ Well, she hadn't had to ask, not in words. She had his heart. And he could have sworn he had hers, too.

It was all too much. Maybe the only real freedom was the grave. Maybe. But he wasn't ready for that, not by a long way. So he'd bloody well have to learn to live with the new set of chains that bound him.

He'd reached the waterfront now, and began to wonder how he'd signal the ship to send a boat. Perhaps he'd have to hire one—or commandeer one! But no: as he approached the docks he spotted O'Brien and Montez, and Gibbs sitting on a railing, conversing as they looked out at the harbor. And there was Owens.

The boy saw him first, turning to look over his shoulder in the direction of the Governor's Mansion for the hundredth time that night. He leapt to his feet as Jack approached, and started forward, a glad cry hovering on his lips, but then stopped abruptly, obviously uncertain as he got a clearer view of Jack's face in the faint light. Jack stopped too, looking at the boy for a moment. Then he consciously softened his expression and opened his arms.

Owens just about knocked him over.

The other three had got to their feet, and Gibbs said, his voice carefully casual as he watched Jack hug the boy, "Ev'nin', Captain. Ready to go back to the _Pearl_?"

"Aye," Jack said. He patted Owens on the back a bit, and then gently disengaged himself. Owens looked up at him, and frowned.

Gibbs voiced the boy's concern. "Who gave you the love pat?" Gibbs brushed his hand against his own jaw, along the same area that discolored Jack's face.

"Norrington. Still looks bad, eh?" Jack gave his concerned crewmembers a crooked smile. "Had me in manacles again, too: my wrists are devilish sore. Let's get back to the ship, shall we?"

o-o-o

He let Alphonse help him get cleaned up, and put soothing salve on his raw wrists. He wouldn't have, ordinarily. Ordinarily he would've groused, _What in blazes does a pirate need with a valet? _But he was so bloody tired. And yet, sleep was out of the question, for he'd rarely been so blue-deviled in his life. So he let Alphonse do the work for which the man had been trained, and when the valet at last made a quiet little bow and left the cabin, Jack had to admit he felt a bit better.

He went back up on deck. The night was cooler than usual, and he could feel that there was another storm on the way. Probably would hit by morning. The deck was quiet, most of the crew having gone below—to give him some privacy, he expected. He hadn't told any of them what had happened, but he supposed it was obvious he wasn't quite himself.

He walked over to the railing and looked out over the water. Toward Port Royal. Toward the Governor's Mansion. He still wasn't sure he would tell his crew any of it. Maybe it'd be for the best if they all sailed away and let the Governor take care of Harry and her baby. She'd come around to seeing sense sooner or later, if he left her alone. If he accepted that he'd never see their child. If he could bear the thought of her in another man's bed. He leaned over, setting his arms on the rail and put his head in his hands.

"What is it, Jack?"

He lifted his head and turned to look at AnaMaria. There was sympathy in her dark, liquid eyes, but there was that stubborn tilt to her chin, too.

He gave a soft chuckle, and shook his head. "I'm bloody doomed to be plagued with domineering women."

"Aye, you are. Now what is it? Something to do with Harry?"

He straightened, and his eyes narrowed. "How the devil'd you know that?"

"What else'd make you look like death, eh? If it were anything else you'd be considerin' ways an' means."

Jack thought about this. "You're right," he said finally. He hesitated, and looked out to the Governor's Mansion, high on the hill behind the town. "She's with child."

"Bloody hell," she said, but without heat. "And Swann found out an' set Norrington on your tail?"

Jack nodded. "That's just about it." He gave a slight, bemused smile at her perspicacity.

She looked him up and down, and gave a wry, answering smile. "Well, you're here, and you appear to be intact. You're luck's holdin'."

He gave a short laugh. "That's one way of lookin' at it."

She hesitated a half-second, studying him. Then she said, "You gonna marry 'er?"

A odd expression came over his face, but he said with some bitterness, "I ain't cut from the right cloth, Ana, as you well know. And she don't want me in any case. Said she won't marry—that she asks nothin' of me."

AnaMaria gave a derisive snort. "O' course she'd say that, ye fool! She loves you! And she knows yer life is with the _Pearl_ and the sea. As for the right cloth: yer blood's as good as theirs, or almost. Ain't it."

It was a statement, not a question, and Jack's brow creased as he looked at her. "Where'd you get such an idea?"

She looked him over again, briefly. "Don't know. Just somethin' about you. Lots o' things. An' nothin': you've a good disguise. Mad Jack Sparrow. But it is a disguise, for all that." She shrugged, seeing how disturbed he was by her words. "Ye don't spend time with a man — work and fight beside him — share his bed — without gettin' a pretty fair idea what kind of man he is."

He shook his head. "I'm glad most folk are a bit slower on the uptake than you. Else I'd be a dead man now."

"Aye, ye would," she agreed briskly. "You're a rogue and a scallywag, and ye'd lie to yer own mother if it suited your purposes. And Harry's the same, just wears a different mask is all." She could see that he agreed with this assessment, though he said nothing, so she said, "You'd better see about marryin' her an' give that baby a name. Else it won't have one."

He shook his head. "If I go, she'll marry someone else. She'll come 'round to it."

"I wouldn't bet on that chance if ye gave me the blunt," said Ana. "Look, she knows life ain't a certain thing. You could be dead in a month. So could she! So if the luck favors you, hands you a bit of happiness…"

"…you grab it with both hands," he said, finishing the phrase with Harry's words.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Ana said, "Think about it. Aye?"

Jack nodded, slowly. She started to leave, but he stopped her by saying, "Sorry I stole your boat, that time," voicing an afterthought, but one that was long overdue.

She turned back and laughed. "No yer not. Ye did what ye had to do. Ye'll get me another, some time. But I'm happy here, now. Savvy?"

He nodded again, and watched her walk across the deck and go below. He briefly returned his gaze to Port Royal, to his contemplation of the Governor's Mansion and all it contained, then turned away and went back to his cabin. He needed a drink. And some rest, too, if he was to be ready for tomorrow.

He lay awake for a long time, in their bed. _Their_ bed. But at last sleep took him, a couple of hours before dawn. Only the nightwatch was awake on the _Black Pearl_ when the merchant ship _Freya_ slipped past it, catching the ebbing tide.

o-o-o

The storm was coming in and it was spitting rain the next morning, when Jack was walking back up the long, rather steep road toward the Governor's Mansion. Water dripped from his hat, and his coat already felt damp. He'd present a simply lovely appearance by the time he got there, he thought morosely.

The sound of a coach came from behind him. He moved to the side of the road as it drew abreast and passed, but then, to Jack's surprise, the coach stopped. Norrington stuck his head out the side window.

"Can I take you up, Sparrow?" said Norrington, politely, his expression bland.

"No, thanks," said Jack, equally polite and bland. He continued walking.

Norrington's lips pressed together for a moment, but then said smoothly, "I'd like a word with you, if you wouldn't mind. Please accept a place in my carriage."

Jack stopped and gave the man a narrow look, but then shrugged and said, "As you wish."

The footman got down off the box, opened the carriage door, and put down the step for Jack as he approached. The pirate murmured, "Much obliged!" to the footman, climbed in and settled himself in the seat opposite the Commodore.

When the horses were given the office to start and they were underway again, Norrington looked at Jack and said, "Didn't think to see you again, actually."

"Aye?" said Jack, a bit testily. "Well, that's what you get for thinkin', innit mate?"

Norrington's lips twitched. "Thoroughly back in disguise today, are we Captain?"

Jack looked down his nose at the man. "Don't know what you mean by that!"

"How is it," said Norrington, thoughtfully, "that your plebeian accent is so much stronger this morning than it was last night?"

Jack stared at him, then said with evident irritation, "Is _that_ the word you wanted to have with me?"

Norrington raised one brow, but said in the same polite tone, "Yes. It is." He turned his gaze to the drizzling rain outside the carriage, away from the pirate.

Jack stared at the impassive face for a moment, then made a slight sound of annoyance and folded his arms, debating whether he should demand to be set down again. He decided against it; it'd make him look (and feel) churlish. But silence was maintained for the remainder of the journey.

The coach drew up before the mansion. Jack got out first, became aware of raised voices coming from within the house, and glanced over at Norrington who answered the pirate's startled look with one of his own as he emerged from the coach. They both hesitated briefly.

Norrington said, slowly, "That sounds like…"

"…Elizabeth!" Jack completed the thought. He strode forward, up the steps, and knocked on the door, followed closely by Norrington.

It was opened by Beck, who raised his brows and assumed a somewhat pained expression. He stood aside and announced, "Commodore James Norrington and Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Jack!" exclaimed Elizabeth, who was standing on the stairs with one of the maids. Will and the Governor were standing in the foyer. Elizabeth rushed down, saying, "Jack! My aunt is gone!" But then she drew close enough to clearly see his bruised face and exclaimed in combined anger and concern, "You are hurt! Who did this to you?" And she turned an angry, accusing gaze on Norrington.

But Jack took her outstretched hands, gave them a brief, sharp squeeze, and said, "Ran into a lamp post. Never mind that! What do you mean, she's gone?"

"A lamp post! " she said, hotly, looking at Jack again, her anger now directed at him. "This is not the time for absurdities! And I mean she's not in her room! Her bed has not been slept in! She's gone!"

"When was this discovered?" Norrington asked.

"An hour ago!"

Governor Swann said in great distress, "I thought it likely she had not slept well last night, and so asked her maid to let her lie abed till nine at least! But when the girl took a tray in, she was not there!"

Norrington said, "Have you questioned the servants? Did any of them see her?"

"Yes, I've asked them. They saw nothing!"

"Flown the bloody coop again, has she?" Jack shook his head. "Where's the note?"

"Note?" said Elizabeth. "What note?"

"The note! She's a woman, ain't she? Bound to have left a note."

Swann said, "But there is not! I looked myself!"

"Well, look again. There's a note somewhere, mark my words."

"My aunt is not like most women!" Elizabeth said, a bit huffily. "Why, she didn't leave a note when we escaped from the _Pearl_ that time!"

"Escaped from the _Black Pearl_! What is this?" demanded Swann.

"Now you've done it," Will said to his agitated wife.

Jack, paying no heed to this, said to Elizabeth, "Didn't have to leave a note that time. Left a message with poor little Owens, didn't you?"

"Oh, well, yes. But still!"

"You're right," conceded Jack, "Harry's not ordinary! But she ain't that different either. We need to find the note."

Swann exclaimed, "I tell you there is no…"

A loud knock on the door cut him off. Beck opened it.

"Giles Lightfoot to see Governor Swann, if you please!" said a brisk voice.

Beck turned to Governor Swann to announce the visitor but Jack said, "Lightfoot! You here? Have you seen Lady Harry, man?"

Beck moved away, allowing Mr. Lightfoot to stride in. The visitor's shrewd eyes took in Jack and his bruised jaw, the sardonic Commodore, the flustered Governor, the irate Elizabeth, and the concerned but somewhat amused Will. Giles said, "Jack! I can see there is a considerable imbroglio afoot! I hope you have not been too much abused by these well-meaning but nevertheless wrongheaded associates of Lady Fanshawe's!" He threw glares of severe disapprobation toward the Governor and Norrington. The Governor stiffened, but Norrington merely sighed, and lifted a brow at the apparent esteem in which the pirate was held by this respectable citizen.

"I'm well enough," said Jack, "but tell us: have you seen Harry?"

"I have not," said Giles, "but this was delivered to me not an hour ago!" He took a note out of an inner pocket of his coat.

Elizabeth snatched it from Lightfoot's hand, ignoring Jack's smirk.

She read it swiftly. Jack looked over her shoulder, a frown appearing on his face and deepening the more he read.

"Well, what does it say?" demanded the Governor.

"It is not very complimentary toward you, Father," said Elizabeth.

The Governor rolled his eyes. "Should that surprise me? Just read it to us!"

Elizabeth read, "'My dear Giles: My officious, interfering fool of a brother has done something so completely despicable that I doubt I will ever be able to bring myself to forgive him! I can no longer bear to occupy contiguous earth with him and am leaving for St. Claire immediately. I know the weather is not conducive to passage in a small boat, like the _Bonny Lass_, but I beg you will follow when it clears. I shall tell you all when we meet again. I am, as ever, your friend, Lady Harry.'"

Jack said, grimly, "The weather ain't conducive to passage in any boat! There's a bloody great storm comin' in!"

Giles said, "The Harbormaster told me that the _Freya_, a merchant ship out of Amsterdam, bound for Cap Fleurit left before dawn. Wouldn't listen to any advice to stay put!"

"God's teeth, she's on that ship or my name ain't Captain Jack Sparrow! Cap Fleurit's only two days from St. Claire. I'd bet the _Pearl_ she's bribed the captain of the _Freya_ to drop her off! Lightfoot: how'd you get here? Did you ride?"

"Yes, I brought the hack I hired for the week."

"Mind if I borrow it? Norrington'll see you back to the harbor." Jack glanced over at the Commodore, who nodded briefly.

"Of course," said Giles, "But where are you going?"

"To fetch her," said Jack heading for the door.

"Jack!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "I want to go with you!"

"Not this time, Missy. You can just stay and explain to your father the little remark about 'escaping from the _Black Pearl_', eh?"


	9. Caught

**Chapter 9: _Caught_**

****

Those days on the _Freya_ were some of the worst of Harry's life. The weather, dismal to begin with, turned stormy and very rough a few hours out of Port Royal, and she was, as a result, mostly confined to the tiny cabin she'd been allotted, with only her thoughts and a couple of very dull books for company. The former were not pleasant companions. Her spirits, usually almost nonsensically buoyant, were now in utter turmoil. She kept reliving, in her mind's eye, the scene in the library of her brother's house. She veered from deep, unforgiving anger at Norrington's and her brother's high-handed behavior toward her and their despicable cruelty to Jack, to an agony of despair at the way Jack had looked at her, at the few words they'd exchanged, hampered by the presence of her brother and the Commodore. And then, she had left him. The thought of further discussion along the same lines had been intolerable. It was likely he would wash his hands of her now. He would sail away on his beloved ship, with the crew she had counted her friends, perhaps to some distant part of the world, and she would never see him again. He would never see the child he had given her. She wondered if it would look like him, and prayed that it would, so that she would have that reminder of him and of their days together, to see her through the years. The happiest days she had ever known. And tears would seep from the corners of her eyes, her lips would quiver on a sob, and she would curse herself for a fool, pace about the cabin for a bit, pick up one of the dull works from her brother's library, try to read, and see instead Jack's dark eyes, the bruises and the manacles, and then it would start all over again.

Thus it went, until the third morning, when the weather finally cleared, the swells decreasing enough to make it safe to venture out on deck. She awoke with a headache, thinking she must look hideous for she'd cried herself to sleep the night before. The air was cool, but the suit of men's clothing was very much warmer than her usual dresses. She wondered, in fact, how men could stand wearing the heavy things in the more usual Caribbean heat!

She was leaning on the rail, looking back, rather wistfully, over the water toward Jamaica, when a cry was heard from the watch in the crow's nest: a ship had been sighted. Harry straightened, suddenly alert, her heart in her mouth, though she told herself it could not be…. But sailors began scurrying to and fro, in a panic, and she grabbed one by the arm.

"What's the to-do?" she demanded, "It's just another ship, is it not?"

"Just another ship!" said the sailor, pausing beside her. "It's the _Black Pearl!_ Ye'd best hide yerself, unless you've a taste for swordplay. We're loaded down with cargo and haven't a chance in the world of running. She'll be on us within the hour."

Harry stared out at the ship, tiny at this distance, but steadily growing larger. The sails…were they black? She could not tell, in this light…but wait! A ray of sun from behind a lingering cloud suddenly delineated billowing shapes of dire portent. Her hands gripped the rail, knuckles white, as her heart leapt with joy and fear both.

Within a quarter hour the _Black_ _Pearl_ was an easily identifiable smudge against the blue of the sky.

The minutes passed at a dreadful pace. She wanted to see him, and yet she felt like hiding, too! Though there was no use in that: if he knew she was on this ship and had taken the trouble to come for her, he'd tear the place apart until he found her.

Oh, why had he come? To drag her back to Port Royal and join her brother and Norrington in hounding her about the choice she'd made? Bloody stupid men! She tried to feed on the anger inspired by this theory, to bolster her courage, but ultimately failed, for she knew in her heart that their arguments were valid ones, and that they were all of them motivated by concern for her welfare, and that of the child.

When the _Black Pearl_ came close enough so that she could identify Jack, standing at the wheel, she felt panic gripping her. She could not face him here, on the open deck! She turned away, and scurried below to her tiny cabin, and shut the door.

She felt the ship sway and lurch as it slowed, then stopped in the water, and, faintly, Jack's order to "throw the grapples, ready a gangplank, and prepare to board!" She could hear yells as the pirates swarmed over to the _Freya_, then the scuffling of a brief confrontation, sword clashing against sword. But the noise faded, and she heard an exchange of words between the Freya's captain and…_Jack!_

She had been sitting on the narrow cot, but at the sound of his voice, so close by, she suddenly realized this cabin was much too small, making her feel cornered, like a rabbit waiting for a snake to invade its hole. Heart thudding, she jumped up, and went into the corridor. The sound of booted feet coming across the deck toward the companionway met her ears. Her eyes widened in alarm, but a sudden longing held her briefly motionless…and then his voice, harsh and indistinct, spurred her fears. She turned and ran to the opposite end of the passageway, opened the door to the captain's cabin and went in, shutting the door behind her. Shutting Jack out.

For a long moment she stood, listening as Jack and the others began to search the other cabins. It would not be long, and there was nowhere else to go. She looked about, trying to decide where to stand and what to say to him. This cabin was much smaller than Jack's aboard the _Black_ _Pearl_, and it seemed oddly ill kept, and only dimly lit from windows that were very much in need of cleaning--negligence Jack would never have allowed! She found that her hands were shaking, and gripped them together, and tried to tell herself she was being a fool, that he wouldn't hurt her…but he _would_, of course: with words, and with the look in his eyes. There were steps coming close now, and she moved away from the door and turned, half in shadow, as the door was thrown open.

He saw her immediately. He turned his head and addressed the others. "She's here," he said, his voice hard, "Go up on deck and keep everyone away." Then he came in and shut the door, and came slowly toward her. "Well, my girl, you've led us another merry dance, haven't you? There was no need to go to so much trouble: no one can force you to marriage, as you're well aware, and you've nothing to fear from me: I'm hardly in a position to force you to such a _mésalliance_!"

_Mésalliance!_ He thought that! Just as she had feared. Just as she had prayed he would not. She realized then that, knowing how closely aligned their thoughts usually seemed, she had clung to the hope that he would have deduced her true motives, that she wanted him to be free, not that she didn't love him enough to defy convention! Stupid man! But she found herself unable to correct his misinterpretation of her actions, for, to her consternation, her throat thickened and the tears welled up in her eyes again. She so very much despised such behavior, and had, in the past, little tolerance for it in others, much less herself! It frustrated her immensely that of late she had turned into such a…a _bloody watering pot!_ She turned abruptly away from him, biting her lip, her hands at her cheeks.

"I would have thought," he went on, coming ever closer, "that you could have summoned enough courage to stay and at least discuss the matter. I had no idea I was dealin' with such a little coward…"

But here he broke off, finally coming close enough to really see her in the dimly lit room. He reached out and turned her and his anger quite suddenly evaporated.

Harry, who had been silently weeping, now gave an anguished cry and, to her chagrin, burst into loud, hiccupping sobs. But to her everlasting relief he pulled her against him, his arms tight around her, his face against her hair.

"Harry, sweetheart! Don't!" he said. "I didn't mean any of it. Don't do this, love!"

She wanted to explain, but try as she might, she couldn't get an intelligible word out, and his sympathy only made it worse. Though she'd shed many tears during the last three days, she'd never lost control like this, wailing in uncontrolled anguish. A vague memory of experiencing such a thing in early childhood came to her. It was devastating: she could only grasp him with frantic hands, and hang on. She became aware of him lifting her in his arms, and sitting down on the narrow berth, holding her on his lap. She continued to try to speak, but the words wouldn't form.

"No, love, we'll talk later. Don't try now," he whispered, tightening his arms around her.

He didn't say much after that, but simply leaned back against the bulkhead and held her, his hands caressing, purring endearments into her hair. She buried her face against his coat, her hands gripping the fabric, shaking with the chaos of her thoughts, but he held her fast, the one solid thing in the swirling agony that consumed her.

This could not last, and when he finally said, in a voice rough with emotion, "Harry: you'll make yourself ill! You must think of the baby!" she made a terrible effort, and pushed away, sitting up, trembling, her breath shuddering. He drew one of his large, lace-edged handkerchiefs from his pocket and handed it to her.

"I'm s-sorry," she managed to get out, "I d-don't know w-what's wrong with m-me." She blew her nose, rather fiercely.

"Could have something to do with you havin' your first child, and the father a black-hearted scallywag of a pirate," he suggested, his voice full of rueful humor. He took back the handkerchief. "Here, let me see," he said, and went to wipe her cheeks with the clean edges. But her eyes overflowed again.

"You are _n-not!_" she gulped, and was suddenly furious with him. "You stupid thing! How c-could you think I didn't l-love you! _How could you!_" She gripped the front of his coat and tried to shake him, then collapsed against him, putting her arms around him and breaking into fresh sobs.

"Harry, sweetheart, don't! You're breaking my heart!" He hugged her, and kissed the top of her head.

But at that she struggled up and kissed him hard, rubbed her wet cheek against his, and then kissed him again. Then she said, "I'll marry you this minute, if that's what you want, but only if _you_ truly want it! Not for anything else—not the b-baby, or anyone's stupid convention, or…or anything!"

He looked at her and sighed. He had the feeling that if he told her it was that simple she would not believe him. And, indeed, it would be a lie. There were valid points on both sides of the issue, for he had certainly never planned to marry: the _Black Pearl_ was his home, and the sea his mistress, and not even the love he felt for this sweetest of ladies, whose spirit seemed almost a reflection of his own, could change that. But facts were facts: she was with child, he was the father, and he owed them both all the protection he could give them, even including his very life.

He said, slowly, "I do want to marry you, if you'll have me. I don't think it's what either of us would've done, but for the babe. But I think maybe it was meant to be this way, somehow."

She swallowed hard, and sniffled quite unromantically. "You do?" she asked, pondering this.

He smiled a little, pleased that he seemed to have said the right thing. "Aye, I do." He dabbed at her wet cheeks with the handkerchief again, and shook his head as she wiped her runny nose with her sleeve. "Hard to believe you're a thirty year old dowager duchess: you look a right urchin."

She laughed, shakily. She took the handkerchief from him again, found a clean corner and blew her nose properly. Then she looked at him and said, "I didn't tell them about the baby, you know. I didn't know, of course, until after you'd left the island, though Rachel thinks I was likely a few weeks along by then. I was so busy, you know. But then I fainted that day…"

"Fainted!" Jack exclaimed, in sudden concern.

"Yes, but…now don't look like that! I was quite all right!" She kissed away his scowl of disbelief, and continued, "But then Rachel told me, and Miriam Lightfoot. And it should have been obvious to me, too, I suppose."

"And how was it obvious to your brother?" Jack frown in puzzlement, for there was no visible evidence that he could see.

Harry shook her head. "I told Elizabeth and Will, and their servant must have overheard. By the next day the whole house knew, although when Weatherby confronted me he did not know you were the father. But then Norrington came to see him, and I believe he guessed it and told my brother."

He laughed shortly. "He would. He's a sharp lad. Too sharp."

"Is he the one who hit you?" Harry asked, her voice hard.

"Aye," Jack said, and rubbed his jaw. "Knocked me clean out. Now don't look like that: he'd reason enough."

"I shall never forgive him. Or my brother."

"Yes, you will. You ain't a fool. You know they had every right to be concerned, not to say angry."

Harry sighed, disgusted, and her eyes dropped to the little beaded braids hanging from his chin. "I suppose so," she said grudgingly.

He sat up and tipped her chin up again, and gently kissed her. She looked up at him, still troubled, and gave another shuddering sigh. Then she hugged him, her face against his neck, and closed her eyes, fighting the tears that threatened again as he hugged her back. But he gave her a little shake. "No more o' that, now, Harry! Let's go back to the _Pearl_, so the captain of this vessel can have his cabin back, dirty windows and all."

She sniffed, and sat up again, and looked around. "I knew you'd be appalled at those when I came in here," she remarked. "One thinks of such odd things at moments like that."

o-o-o

Harry had washed her face, using water from a ewer and basin that lay in a corner of the Dutch captain's cabin, but the pirate crew of the _Pearl_, still holding the merchant crew at bay, could see that she had been crying when she and Jack came on deck. Some disapproving glances were sent Jack's way, but Harry smiled and shook her head slightly. She took a deep breath, and approached the captain of the _Freya._

"Indeed, I am so very sorry to have been the cause of so much trouble, Captain, but I shall now be leaving your ship, and you can go on to Cap Fleurit without stopping at St. Claire."

"You are a woman! I cannot credit this! And you say you are going with these pirates?" said the captain, quite aghast.

"Yes. They are friends of mine, you see. So much so that I feel I can intercede on your behalf and ask them to refrain from relieving you of your cargo?" She looked a question at Jack, who nodded, but with a grimace that said, _Oh, very well, if we must!_, and she had to subdue a chuckle.

"We'll all take our leave, now," Jack said. "Thanks for the use of your cabin. You might set one of these lazy dogs to washing the windows, by the by." He cocked an eyebrow at the Dutch Captain as he bowed slightly.

He insisted that he must carry her across the planks that had been laid between the ships, and she objected only a very little before giving in, for the way looked most precarious to her, and her fear of heights had not eased any in the months since he'd bullied her up the Pearl's rope ladder on the night they'd met. She could not bear to look as they crossed, but he was remarkably sure-footed on the narrow way. Attaining the Pearl's deck, he told her, in a voice edged with dry humor, that she could open her eyes again, and he set her on her feet, giving her a quick kiss. He then turned to supervise the return of the rest of crew and the parting of the ships. But Harry did not stay to watch.

Suddenly overcome with the deep exhaustion she had only recently begun to feel as the babe grew within her, she made her way down to Jack's cabin and went in, closing the door behind her. All was neat and bright inside, and it was like coming home. With a sigh of content, she walked over to the bed and began to strip off her clothes, putting them in a folded pile on the chair. She left only the white linen shirt on, which would serve very well for sleeping. Then she turned down the bed and climbed in, delighting in the cool, soft sheets, the weight of the blankets as they settled over her, and the familiar feel of the embroidered pillow slips. She tried to stay awake for a short time, just to enjoy these sensations, and that of the motion of the ship, rocking gently in the waves, but it was impossible. She never even noticed when Jack joined her an hour later, sliding in beside her and gathering her into his arms.

o-o-o

They woke together, near the dinner hour. There was still light from the sunset coming through the windows, and they studied each other's faces between kisses, and were both happy with what they saw there.

"Let me see this child of mine," he said, slowly pulling the ties of her shirt, undoing them one by one, his eyes on hers all the while. She reached up to run caressing fingers over the now faint bruise on his jaw, but he turned his face and placed a kiss on her palm, and continued with single-minded concentration until the ties were all opened. "Sit up!" he demanded, helping her to do so, then moving to pull the long shirt out from under her, and over her head, tossing it aside. Bared to his gaze, she sank back against the pillows once more and lay unresisting, unmoving but for the quick pulse of blood visible beneath the pale skin of her neck. For long moments he looked, just looked, his eyes taking in every detail of the body that was so very familiar, yet changed in such subtle ways: a slight fullness in her breasts, now rose-tipped rather than the paler pink of shells; the waist still narrow, but a very slight rounding of her previously flat abdomen indicating the presence of new life.

He lay down again, close beside her, and carefully set his hand over this roundness. "Do you feel it move?" he asked, nearly whispering.

"Not yet. Rachel says it will be some few weeks. She's been midwife to the women of the island for many years, you know. She says I shall do very well, when the time comes."

He ran his hand down around her hip, a crease between his brows. His own mother had died in childbirth and, even discounting that ill chance, he grew cold thinking of what she must necessarily suffer even if all went as it should.

But she said, "Jack! Women have babies every day. I'll be fine!"

He found her body changed in other ways as well. It took more time and patience to rouse her to his touch, but then, once he had managed it, a frenzy of need took her and she seemed almost desperate for release.

"Easy, love," he murmured, trying to be careful with her, but she would have none of it, writhing beneath him, her fingers gripping, pulling.

"No! Please, Jack!" she gasped.

And so he gave it up, losing himself in the storm that swept over them, half muffling her frantic cries with kisses, but then quite unable to keep from crying out himself, at the last.

Afterward, she lay so spent and still he thought she might have fainted, but she stirred very slightly when he drew the covers back up over them, then slept in his arms until Gibbs brought dinner down to them an hour later.

She could barely stay awake to eat, and went back to bed directly after, but he dressed and went up to the deck, taking the wheel from Anamaria.

"How is she?" Ana asked, looking at him closely.

"Tired. But she's well. She's…" His voice trailed off as he looked out over the sea.

"And how are you?" Ana asked softly.

"I'm well, too." He looked at Ana, and a shadow of his usual humor lit his eyes. "I've been chasing the _Pearl_ for so many years…and now I have her and Harry comes and…everything is changed from what I thought it would be. Ironic, ain't it?"

"Things work out as they're meant to," Ana said.

"Aye, they do. Hard to believe, though. After all these years. It's a funny old world, sure enough."

"Some things just wait for the right time," Ana said. She smiled at him, and left him to his thoughts.


	10. Accord

**Chapter 10: _Accord_**

****

Governor Swann, Will and Elizabeth, and Norrington were standing on the dock when the _Black Pearl_ eased gently into a berth at Port Royal for the first time, expertly guided by its Captain. The Dowager Duchess could be seen standing beside him on the quarterdeck, to the welcoming party's relief. As soon as the lines were set, however, Jack was seen to lightly squeeze her arm as he made some comment, then left her there, descending the steps, crossing the deck, and sauntering down the hastily set gangplank. He greeted Elizabeth with a casual "Hullo, love!" as she rushed up to see her Aunt.

"Hello, Jack! Thank you for bringing her back!" Elizabeth said, as she squeezed past, giving him a quick smile.

He continued down to the dock, a smile on his own face that somehow didn't quite reach his eyes. "Governor. Commodore. I've fetched her as I said I would. And if either of you upset her, I'll take you out and feed you to the damned sharks! Savvy?"

Satisfied with their suitably startled expressions, Jack gave them a nod and went to greet Will, who was standing off to the side, a look of humorous admonition on his face.

"Jack! You really should not!" Will said, keeping his voice low. "Was she that bad?"

"Oh, no!" Jack said, sarcastically, though now his eyes did smile. "I _enjoy_ hysterical females!"

"Hysterical! _Harry_?" exclaimed Will, shocked.

Jack shrugged slightly. "Not quite, that, but near. Just a quick squall though, and then the sun came out again, so to speak. You know what she is."

"Yes. I do," said Will, thinking that he knew what Jack was as well. "You two have…ah…come to an accord, then?"

Jack's mouth tugged into a crooked grin. "We have at that. Care to stand up for me?"

Will laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Of course! Wheedled her finely, did you?"

"Aye. I appear to have said the correct things to persuade her. It was a welcome change, I assure you."

"It must have been," Will laughed. "But isn't she coming down?" He looked up at Elizabeth and Lady Henrietta, in smiling converse on the quarterdeck, now surrounded by a number of the _Pearl's_ crew.

"No. I'm to ask you to come up. She don't want to leave the ship." Jack turned to the Governor and Commodore again. "Gentlemen, if you'd be so kind as to step up the gangplank I'll escort you to my cabin and we can begin negotiations."

"Aboard your ship!" the Governor exclaimed. "But the carriages are waiting! We can be back at the house in a quarter hour and discuss the situation in comfort."

"My lady asked me to convey to you that she won't leave the _Pearl_, if it's all the same to you. Or even if it's not. One must respect the whims of females who find themselves in a delicate condition, Governor."

The Governor rolled his eyes with a sigh of exasperation. "Oh, the devil. Very well," he said in a tone of long suffering.

The Commodore frowned. "My office is close at hand, if the lady does not wish to return to her brother's home."

Jack shook his head. "The sharks are getting hungry, Commodore. And my lady's patience has been tried enough. So if you'll please acquiesce to her little request. You'll find my cabin quite comfortable, I believe, and we can bring matters to a happy conclusion without delay."

Norrington sighed, wondering not for the first time why he was willing to put up with Sparrow. But he said, "As you wish," and followed Jack up the gangplank.

o-o-o

The Governor and the Commodore were indeed surprised by the size and luxury of Captain Sparrow's cabin. Besides the neatly made bed with its fine linens, and the big carved mahogany table around which they all seated themselves, there was a matching sideboard laden with refreshments for the guests, oriental carpets on the floor, a bookcase with a variety of references and literature within, and a nice collection of artwork and artifacts acquired from foreign ports and from the various ships and towns the _Pearl_ had taken over the last few months.

"Drinks, Gentlemen?" offered Captain Sparrow. "I've French brandy, or claret. Or rum, of course, if you prefer."

"I'll try some of that brandy, if you don't mind, Captain Sparrow", said the Governor. "Will, James: will you join me?"

Will said to the Commodore, "Jack's brandy is of really excellent quality."

"Should be," Jack agreed, handing them each a glass. "It was meant for the Governor of Martinique." He poured out two more glasses, this time from a pitcher. "Lemonade for the ladies," he said, handing Elizabeth and Harry each a glass, "and Rum for me." He lifted his mug in a brief salute. "To a successful negotiation, and a swift accord."

The others responded to the toast with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Now," continued Jack, "you will be gratified to know you may wish me happy: Lady Fanshawe has agreed to be my wife."

"What!" exclaimed the Governor. "But that is not…I mean to say…Harry! You cannot mean to actually marry this…_pirate_!"

Harry, who had been looking decidedly mulish since entering the cabin, said tartly, "I certainly wouldn't consider marriage with anyone else, Weatherby, so if are determined to saddle me with a husband for the sake of the baby I suggest you keep your tongue between your teeth!"

"Harry!" Jack said, with quiet menace.

Harry, who had earlier endured a pointed homily from her beloved on the subject of catching more flies with honey than vinegar, gave a sniff and said, "Oh, as you wish," and contented herself with looking daggers at her brother.

Weatherby Swann, although somewhat surprised at his willful sister's even grudging acceptance of Jack's admonition, said with some asperity, "God's teeth! First Elizabeth, and now you!" But then he looked at Will in very evident consternation. "I…so sorry, my boy! You know how I have come to value you, of course."

"I do, sir. But I think you should reconsider your opinion of Jack as well. He may be…unconventional! But he's a good man: clever, resourceful, and very successful at his work."

"You consider piracy to be a valid occupation?" Norrington said, with evident disbelief.

Jack said, "Well there's pirates, and there's pirates, as I think you know, Commodore. And then…there are _privateers_."

"Privateers? Are you suggesting you'd like to apply for a Letter of Marque, Sparrow?" Norrington demanded.

"Captain. It's Captain Sparrow, lad. And yes, I've been considering it for some time. Since I got the _Pearl_ back, in fact. As much as I enjoy waylaying rich merchant ships and pillagin' the occasional town, I've found I can do without the English ones quite easily. And since you seem to have it in for me, and my crew, I thought it might be prudent to indicate our willingness to aid the Crown. Not to mention the added sheen of respectability it'll give me, that just may allow me to wed the mother of my child without hindrance."

"Your crew members are willing to part with ten percent of their plunder?" the Commodore said, skeptically.

"Most of 'em. I'll maybe lose a few, but I think I can replace those fast enough. Tortuga's full o' fellows who'd like a chance to sail on the _Pearl_—she's begun to build quite a nice reputation since Barbossa's death."

There was silence around the table for a long moment. Then Elizabeth said, "I think it is the perfect solution! How soon can these papers be drawn up? When can we call in Parson Daniels?"

The Commodore said: "If I give my approval, and I have not yet agreed to that, the papers can be ready in the morning. But before they take effect, the Governor must first persuade the Crown to issue a general pardon for Captain Sparrow and his crew."

"Yes," said Swann. He fixed a look of accusation on Harry, and a little on Elizabeth. He said to Jack, "I have come to understand that the situation you found on first arriving at St. Claire Island was such that you and your crew were put to great trouble and danger, due to the willful and reckless behavior of my sister, and of my daughter who appears to have been her willing accomplice. I cannot express to you how very much I appreciate your efforts on their behalf, and I am willing to use my influence to obtain a pardon for all of you!"

"Aye, well, I won't deny you're right about the trouble and danger," said Jack, with an amused glance at his chagrined betrothed, "and a pardon would certainly be most useful at this juncture."

"However, Sister," the Governor continued, "you do realize that this man would gain control of your fortune on your marriage?"

"We've already discussed this, Governor," Jack said quickly, giving Harry another quelling glance. "I don't want her money. Doin' fine on me own, thank you very much, and we'll have papers drawn up to that effect before we tie the knot."

"Jack!" Harry began, but he cut her off.

"No! We've already gone over this. There's no need for more discussion, savvy?"

Harry gave another sniff of impatience, folded her arms and scowled at him. He raised a brow and scowled right back, then said to Swann. "You ought to be bloody thankful I'm takin' her off your hands, after raisin' her to be a devilish little shrew! Ow!" Jack jerked suddenly away from Harry, but turned to her and pointed an accusing finger. "You pinch me again and you'll catch it hot tonight, my girl!"

She raised a delicate brow and gave him a look that was all feigned innocence. Her lips quivered. "Promise?"

Swann looked quite shocked at this sally, Elizabeth and Will made a valiant effort not to laugh, and even Norrington shook his head, giving a small crooked smile. Jack put his head in his hands and groaned.

Will said, in mock sympathy, "Well, at least you won't be bored, Jack."

"No. Don't suppose I will," he agreed. He turned and eyed his maddening ladylove again, but smiled crookedly, too.

Norrington felt it was time to put in a word. He said, dryly, "This is all very well, Captain Sparrow: Your disinterest in the lady's fortune is indeed commendable, if not entirely believable. But the advantage you will gain by ready access to St. Claire Island and its various amenities cannot be calculated in monetary terms."

"Aye, well. There is that of course," Jack admitted, his smile growing a bit sly.

"You should be glad of that, if he's to become a King's Pirate," Will pointed out.

Norrington considered this, and finally nodded. "You are correct. I should be glad of it. And yet, there is one other thing: I cannot but have grave misgivings regarding the effect this marriage may have on the Swann family name. It will be thought more than odd if the Governor of Port Royal gives his ready consent to his sister's marriage to Captain Sparrow, who is, unfortunately, very well known not only here but all over the Caribbean."

Swann said, blustering a bit, "Yes, well, as to that, there's a dashed convenient rumor circulating in town about the astonishingly noble but heretofore secret ancestry of Captain Sparrow." Swann saw Jack's sharp gaze turn on him, and said quickly, "Didn't start it myself, you know. Likely the servants. But it serves the purpose, don't you think?"

"Just better not come to Wainfleet's ears. Never did acknowledge me, legally speakin', an' he's not like to do it now," Jack said, adding wryly, "In fact, he could have some slight objection to havin' his name associated with mine at all!"

"Well, I doubt the rumor will be circulated in London for some time, and will no doubt have changed out of all recognition when it does cross the water."

"I daresay," agreed Jack.

Harry said, "Have we covered all points, then? Because I, for one, am starving."

Jack said, in surprise, "Starvin'? That's an improvement. You've barely eaten since I took you off the _Freya_!"

"Aunt! No! You must remember you are eating for two, now," said Elizabeth, sagely.

"I'll remind you of those words when you are increasing," said Harry, "My appetite, of late, has not been what it once was, but Anatole has promised to make me a soufflé since we are in port, and there will be a light soup with shrimp dumplings, and a _poulet à la grecque_, and an orange pudding. And there will be meats and bread for the rest of you, of course."

"The wedding tomorrow, then?" Elizabeth smiled at her father.

Governor Swann sighed. "Very well. Harry, I'll bring my lawyer here in the morning, so that the appropriate papers can be drawn up."

"Yes, all right. If that must be done," Harry conceded, with a sidelong look at Jack. He picked up her hand and kissed it, and she smiled warmly.

Norrington said, "You can come to my office at noon, Captain Sparrow. I'll have the application ready for you to sign."

"I'll do that," Jack agreed.

"Will and I can help with the preparations for the wedding," said Elizabeth.

"There won't be much to prepare," said Harry. "We have decided on a quiet ceremony here in the cabin, with a small celebration on deck after with the crews of the _Pearl_ and the _Bonny Lass_."

"And then the honeymoon, as we leave on the evening tide," said Jack airily, smiling suggestively at his betrothed. She smiled back, coloring charmingly.

"Leave?" exclaimed Elizabeth and the Governor at once.

Elizabeth turned to Harry: "But you cannot leave so soon! You only just returned!"

"Nevertheless, I feel I must return to St. Claire. The weather is now clear, and the Bonny Lass can follow us. And, too, the crew of the _Black Pearl_ is more or less confined to the ship while we are here: the townsfolk have not yet learned that they may be trusted, you know."

"Yes. That's true," said Elizabeth sadly.

"Why do not you come with us?" asked Harry, suddenly. "You've not seen the island since it's been cleaned up, and I assure you it is delightful!"

"Oh, I would love that! Can we Will?"

"I appreciate the kind invitation, but I need to work. We are beholden enough to my father-in-law for the house. I'll not have him providing for our other needs as well."

"But there's the smithy at the plantation," said Harry. "All evidence of Cray is cleansed from it now. We need so many things for the island, and Thomas has nowhere near your skill: it would be a great favor to us if you'd combine work with pleasure and stay with us for a few weeks. And I could pay you well."

"That is most kind of you, Aunt Harry," said Will. "And I'd be glad to instruct Thomas in the craft." He turned to Elizabeth. "I'd better get back to the smithy, if you are indeed set on this. I have some few orders to complete before I can leave."

The Governor said sadly, "So I am to lose all of you!"

"Only for a few weeks, Father," said Elizabeth. "But when Jack's application is approved, perhaps you can come to St. Claire with the Commodore to present his official pardon and Letter of Marque."

"Yes, Captain Sparrow," said Norrington. "I suggest you curtail your more questionable activities until then." He turned to the Governor. "So you are indeed willing to see your sister married to this man?"

"I seem to have little choice," the Governor said, "unless her child is to be born without a father."

"Very true," agreed Harry. "And, too, you will neither of you have to worry about me disclosing certain information I have in your regard. For the moment, at least."

The Governor grimaced, and Norrington eyed the Dowager Duchess, shaking his head. "May I say that you and Sparrow are remarkably suited to one another, Lady Fanshawe."

"You may indeed," Harry said, exchanging a smiling look with Jack.


	11. Wish Me Happy

**Chapter 11: _Wish Me Happy_**

****

It was an odd feeling for Jack, walking unmolested through Port Royal, and then into Fort Charles to Commodore Norrington's office the next day at noon, but, although he seemed to be of surreptitious interest to the soldiers stationed there, no one was less than polite to him, rather to his surprise and relief.

Norrington greeted him (remembered to call him 'Captain', too!) and presented the application to him in a businesslike manner.

"I never thought to see this day," the Commodore commented, after Jack signed the paper with a flourish.

"Nor did I, Commodore." Jack quirked an eyebrow at him and nodded. "Life's funny that way."

"Yes," Norrington said, slowly, then after a moment's hesitation, "I feel I must apologize to you for yielding to my violent impulse at our meeting aboard the _Dauntless_. Though I was motivated by my regard and concern for the lady, there is no excuse for such a loss of control."

Jack gave a short laugh. "I've no quarrel with the regard and concern: you've known her longer than I, and she had me at our first meeting! She's that way. And considering the things you might have done under the circumstances…well, let's just say the apology is certainly accepted, and leave it at that, shall we? Will we see you aboard the _Black Pearl_ this evening, then?"

"Yes," said Norrington, smiling a little. "If you wish me to attend the wedding I shall certainly do so."

"We do wish it, though I doubt I could get Harry to admit it. Hasn't laid her feathers yet, y'see. But she'll come 'round. She likes parties. It'll put her in a good mood tonight."

"Yes, very likely," the Commodore agreed. Then he said, "You know, Captain Sparrow, although I realize your line of work will not permit you to supervise her activities at all times, she really does need someone to…ah…keep an eye on her."

"Aye, I know that. We'll see if we can't manage it, between me and the good people on that island of hers. And I'm hopin' she'll mellow a bit, after the baby comes. Else my hair's like to be turned gray before a couple o' years are out."

The Commodore eyed the pirate's elaborately plaited and decorated locks. "A dismaying prospect, to be sure."

o-o-o

The wedding took place near sunset, in the Great Cabin aboard the _Black Pearl_.

The Reverend Mr. Daniels had been quite incredulous when Governor Swann and Elizabeth Turner had approached him with the request that he come to the pirate ship that evening to perform the ceremony which would unite the Governor's elegant sister, Henrietta Fanshawe, _née_ Swann, to the controversial object of her affection, the pirate Captain Jack Sparrow. Indeed, Daniels had at first refused to acquiesce to what he considered to be unbelievable folly, only giving his assent when the Governor made it clear to him that it would be most unwise to refuse. Since the oblique warning was accompanied by the assertion that a generous donation would be made to the church, as well as a substantial gift given to himself for his assistance, the parson's finer feelings had been assuaged. However, when he made his way to the dock that evening, arrayed in his clerical garb, his _Book of Common Prayer_ in hand, he held himself in so forbidding a manner that no one from the town dared to question his prospective activities, and the members of the pirate crew, who had been stationed at the gangplank to watch for him and greet him on his arrival, were quite dismayed.

"Y'mean this Friday-faced fella's goin' ta marry th' Captain?" one of the criminals was heard to say in a low but audible tone.

"Shut yer yap!" came the hissed reply.

Daniels feigned deafness, raised his chin a bit, and walked up the gangplank.

One had to admit that the _Black Pearl_ herself was a beautifully maintained vessel, something he would hardly have expected in a pirate ship. As he was led across the deck, past a colorful assortment of crewmembers who were as well-groomed and finely dressed for the occasion as could be managed, the parson noted how every visible surface shone as though freshly cleaned or polished, every rope was coiled neatly, and how the shrouds and lines had been adorned with colorful flags to celebrate the momentous night. He walked beneath Chinese lanterns that had been strung in two lines above the main deck, ready to shed their light on the festivities that were to be held there after the ceremony took place. And there were tables of food already being laid out, the work of which was being supervised by a very superior-looking individual who gave his brisk commands in the French tongue. Parson Daniels eyed the feast with relish, for he was something of an epicure though he usually found little chance to indulge his inclination in his present position.

He was led below to the Great Cabin, and, when he stepped across the threshold, the sight of it and its wonderfully arrayed occupants caused him to raise his brows in surprise. The cabin impressed him as a generous space, richly baroque in its appointments, and light from the westering sun gave everything in it a faint golden glow.

"Parson's here, Jack!" announced a neatly dressed Irishman with mutton chop whiskers.

The group parted and Governor Swann came forward, followed by the pirate captain. Daniels' jaw nearly dropped at the sight of Sparrow, for he was almost unrecognizable as the man who'd stood on the scaffold at Fort Charles less than a year ago. He was magnificently clad, his immaculate smallclothes and fantastically embroidered waistcoat topped with a coat sewn from Cloth of Gold, and he was impeccably groomed as well, his hair having been divested of its unusual gewgaws, combed and curled, and his facial hair neatly trimmed. The parson's brows twitched together: somehow the man was oddly familiar even in this guise.

"Reverend Daniels!" said the Governor in his easy, urbane manner, "may I present you to the groom, Captain Jack Sparrow."

Daniels bowed, and Sparrow returned the greeting in kind.

"I am given to understand you will henceforth be serving the Crown under a Letter of Marque, Captain Sparrow," said Daniels, wishing to have this point affirmed, for in spite of the Governor's veiled threat and promise of compensation the parson was still somewhat hesitant to perform the ceremony.

"Your information is correct, Reverend Daniels," said Commodore Norrington, who had sauntered over, very impressive in his dress uniform, and quite intimidating to Daniels, who was a good half-foot shorter than the officer. "Captain Sparrow signed an application in my office just this morning."

"Well!" said Daniels, a little nervously, "That is certainly good news. I must congratulate you, Captain, on the step you have taken toward a more orthodox and morally acceptable career."

Jack looked quite sardonic, but said only, "Much obliged, Reverend."

At this point, Lady Fanshawe, who had been giving her elaborately coiffed hair some final touches as she looked in the mirror, came to join the men. "Reverend Daniels!" she said, with wonderful condescension, "How happy I am to see you!" She held out one beautiful little hand. Daniels took it, rather awkwardly, and kissed the air just above the rosy fingers, trying not to goggle at the lady's perfect bosom, which seemed to him to be very much exposed by the extreme décolletage of her dress, an amazing creation of deep blue-green shot with gold thread and trimmed with gold lace—the height of fashion no doubt… but still…

Flushing, Daniels straightened again, and glanced nervously at the Governor, who looked exasperated.

The Governor said to his sister, "All right, Harry, enough of your tricks! Putting the good Reverend out of countenance, indeed!"

"You are such a spoil-sport, Weatherby," said the lady, sadly. "I find it most astonishing that we are so closely related." She turned to Captain Sparrow, her eyes now holding a decided twinkle. "Are we ready then? Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Oh, I'm sure," said the Captain, looking her over with amused approval. "But remember the bit about love, cherish, and _obey_. Are _you_ sure?"

A little crease appeared between the winged brows, but a smile tugged at her lips as she replied, "I quite thought we would be leaving that last part out!"

"Well, we're not," said the Captain, pointedly.

She sighed. "Oh, very well." But then she smiled at Sparrow, the look in her eyes so full of happiness and love that Daniels himself was astonished the man only took her hands in his, and smiled back.

"Come Daniels," the Governor said, briskly, "I'll show you where we want you."

The Reverend was hustled to one side of the room, in front of the great windows with their golden light streaming in, and the whole company rapidly assembled, a few sitting in the carved chairs that had been taken from around the big table, the rest standing. Captain Sparrow and Lady Fanshawe took their places before the Reverend, still holding hands, with Will and Elizabeth Turner flanking them.

Daniels looked at the two couples before him, thinking that, however much society might consider each pair a sad _mésalliance_, he himself had rarely seen any that were happier or seemed better suited to one another. Quite satisfied, he adjusted his spectacles, and opened his book.

o-o-o

The crews of the _Black Pearl_ and the _Bonny Lass_ were on deck to greet Jack and Harry as they emerged from the companionway doors after the ceremony was concluded, followed by the rest of the wedding party and guests.

"Three cheers for the Captain and his lady wife!"

And Jack grinned broadly while Harry laughed with delight as the deafening cheers sounded.

There was a great deal of 'may I kiss the bride?' for Harry and shoulder clapping and hand shaking for Jack. The music started up, provided by a couple of the Pearl's crewmembers who were talented in that direction, and a few musicians that had been hired for the occasion, and the party began in earnest. The bridal couple went to greet the chef, Anatole, and admire the wonderful dishes he had prepared.

"It is amazing that you were able to put this together in so short a time, Anatole!" exclaimed Harry. "You truly are a genius!"

"The townsfolk were most cooperative, my lady, as I was accompanied by your so beautiful niece, Mrs. Turner. I must tell you, she has asked that I instruct her in the culinary arts on our voyage back to St. Claire Island. I hope you will permit?"

"Of course! It sounds an excellent plan. But Anatole, I am not 'my lady' any more, you know, but only plain 'Mrs. Sparrow'!" She smiled up at Jack.

But Anatole said, "But no, madame! You will always be 'Lady Harry', _naturellement!_"

As dusk deepened into night, the Chinese lanterns were lit, the music played on, there was dancing, and clapping, cheering, and other noise of revelry, occasionally quieting as toasts were made to the happy couple. To the residents of Port Royal, a surprising number of whom had ventured out for an evening stroll along the waterfront, the _Black Pearl_ became a thing of wonder instead of fear. There were numerous rumors positively flying about town now, of Sparrow's pardon and new position as a privateer for the Crown, and of his connection with the Governor's sister. And Parson Daniels had been seen earlier, headed to the ship? The whole affair was astounding!

o-o-o

It was several hours later when the festivities began to draw to a close. Giles Lightfoot and the crew of the _Bonny Lass_ hunted Jack and Harry down and took their leave of them.

"We'll not be able to keep up with the _Pearl_, but we'll be following along, sure enough," said Giles. He told Jack, "You keep an eye on the lady, lad! She's got a heart of gold, but she's a handful, too, and that's the truth." He gave the slightly chagrined bride a meaningful look, and a wink.

"I'll keep her busy enough the next few days, certainly," Jack said, giving her a sidelong glance and smiling at the delicate blush that stained her cheeks.

The Governor was next to depart. He had imbibed a good deal of very excellent rum punch and, as a result, said to Harry with less than his usual diplomacy, "Well, you've got what you wanted, m'dear. I hope you'll not regret it." He looked at Jack. "She wants looking after, y'know. Needs a strong hand to keep her in line. Never could bring myself to do it, but I'd like to think you'll give her the occasional beating. Would do her a world of good. But I suspect that's too much to hope for."

"It would be more than my life's worth, certainly," said Jack, his eyes laughing, giving his speechless bride's arm a warning squeeze. "I've presented her with a nice Spanish dagger, you know, and I've been teachin' her how to use it, too."

"Oh, no! I feel you've made a mistake there, lad!" said Swann, obviously quite dismayed at the thought of his sister with a knife to hand.

"Perhaps so," agreed Jack.

"I'll take my leave now..."

"And none too soon!" put in Harry, acidly.

"But I'll be out to see you both when the pardon and Letter of Marque come through."

"We'll look forward to seeing you then," said Jack. Harry just sniffed.

Norrington was next to go.

"Captain and Mrs. Sparrow: may I wish you both very happy. It's been a memorable evening."

"That it has, Commodore," said Jack. "We are both of us happy you could join us."

Norrington bowed gravely and took his leave.

"Well!" said Harry to Jack, "At least _he_ said nothing about your watching over me!"

"No. He'd already told me, in his office this afternoon." He grinned at her look of outrage, and mollified the effect of the statement by taking her in his arms and kissing her. The result of this was so beneficial that, on parting his lips from hers slightly, he said, "Perhaps we should think of retiring ourselves, love. You're feeling a bit fatigued?"

Harry blinked up at him. "Fatigued?" she said, rather breathlessly. She pulled herself together a bit. "Ah, yes. I am, actually. Yes. Perhaps we should think of… retiring." She took the arm he offered to her, saying quizzically, "Not going to sweep me off my feet and carry me down?"

"No. Thought you'd rather walk by my side."

She had to kiss him again.

When they parted, Jack turned to address the remaining revelers, who were most of them watching with smiles and laughter: Elizabeth and Will (good God! He was now their Uncle!); his dear friends Anamaria and Gibbs; the Essential Frenchmen, Alphonse and Anatole; Owens, looking proud and happy as a young peacock in a suit of elegant new clothes; and the rest of his crew, good men all--every one of them had told him they would stay on, in spite of the tithe the Crown would take when he assumed his new, slightly more respectable role of privateer. "Ladies, Gentlemen!" he said, merrily, "I've decided we'll be leavin' on the morning tide. My lady wife and I will be otherwise occupied until then. Many thanks to you all, and we bid you good night!"

And without further ado, to the accompaniment of enthusiastic and ribald cheers and whistles the bridal couple made their way across the deck and descended to their cabin.

o-o-o

"I've got something for you," Jack murmured, and placed a kiss on her neck as she finished lighting the lamp. "Something for you to wear tonight."

She blew out the taper, set it down, and turned to slide her arms around him, smiling. "You want me to wear something? How unusual!"

After a long, languorous kiss, she withdrew very slightly and said, "What is it, then?"

"What's what?" He moved his lips across her cheek to place a kiss behind her ear.

"What you want me to wear!" She closed her eyes, with a shuddering sigh.

"Oh, yes. That." He released her, reluctantly, and handed her the little package he had been holding.

She took it from him and untied the gold cord, then carefully unwrapped the colorful scarf from around the gift—a necklace!

"Oh! It's beautiful!" she breathed, and held it up.

It was a string of perfect black pearls.

**_-- Finis --_**


End file.
